Unhinged
by supernaturalsam
Summary: Sam and Dean are down in Arkansas investigating a haunted hotel when they encounter someone who wants what Sam has: a brother. He’ll go to any lengths to get what he wants, even if that means removing Sam from the picture…permanently. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Here is my next story for you! This chapter is just setting up the hunt for Sam and Dean, but don't worry—the Winchesters will be making their appearance in the next chapter. I plan on a lot of intense things happening in this story, including some much-loved angst! As always, I ask you to please let me know what you're thinking whether it's good or bad!

This fic takes place in the second season between _Hollywood Babylon_ and _Folsom Prison Blues_.

**Big thanks to my awesome betas, Bayre and Sojourner…they friggin' rock!**

Standard disclaimer applies meaning I own nothing except the computer I'm writing on and the television I watch _Supernatural_ on…I really need to see if I can change that.

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**Travers, Arkansas**

The rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof of the car and a boom of thunder sounded somewhere in the distance. The storm had been coming in a steady downpour for the last hour, which wasn't unusual for the mid-April night. They always got rain this time of year, so the citizens of Travers, Arkansas were used to it by now. Most of the occupants of the small town stayed in the shelter of their homes to wait out the storm. Tonight, these two were the exception.

Jason Stewart was glad for the rain. He didn't like driving when there were a lot of people on the road. Of course, he didn't like driving in the rain either, but at least he didn't have to deal with the traffic. It wasn't that he didn't like people, in fact he was a very outgoing person. The twenty-one year old brunette had been involved in one too many accidents in his short driving career, none of which was ever his fault—it was the idiots who drove these streets like they were trying out for Indy 500.

Normally, Jason wouldn't be out driving tonight especially since he had to be at work early tomorrow morning. Even though his dad owned Stewart Construction, Jason was still expected to be there by five-thirty every morning—even more so now because his dad was planning on leaving the company in his hands by the end of the year. But Jason's passenger had convinced him to drive him out to the old Eclipse Hotel and he'd paid the young man handsomely for it.

Glancing over at the man seated next to him, Jason wondered how it was he was so gullible. Why did he have to go out of this way to please everyone, even people who weren't form around here? He'd met Nick Douglas at One Shot's—the only bar in town—a few hours ago and somehow volunteered for the job when the reporter for the _Arkansas Times_ told him he was interested in doing a story about the old hotel. Of course, the five hundred dollars Nick gave him helped seal the deal, too. Jason needed all the money he could get his hands on right now since he planned on asking Valerie Sealy, his girlfriend of three years, to marry him soon.

As another crack of lightening flashed across the sky, Jason could see the faint outline of the five-story hotel approaching. He still had no idea why Nick would be interested in the old structure—it was nothing more than a decrepit building that had been abandoned for almost forty years. There were talks around town it was haunted, but Nick didn't buy into that. He never believed in ghosts and he wasn't about to start now.

"So, why are you interested in the Eclipse, anyway?"

The balding, middle-aged reporter glanced over at him. "I heard this place was a hotspot for paranormal activity."

Jason scoffed. "You actually believe in that crap?"

Nick shrugged. "I don't know—I've never actually seen anything. But my editor wants to start a series on haunted places in Arkansas. So who am I to argue? Especially if I want to get paid."

Jason laughed. "I hear you there, man."

Five minutes later, Jason finally pulled up in front of the Eclipse. Glancing up at the structure, the young man had to appreciate the architecture. Built of slate, the stately structure had arched windows that seemed to surround the place. On either side was a tower that rose slightly above the tiled roof. Jason supposed back in its prime, the hotel was something to be admired, but now with the broken windows, graffiti all over the first level, and the debris that surrounded the perimeter, it was nothing but an eyesore.

"Well, here it is." Jason nodded towards the dilapidated structure.

Nick looked sharply at Jason. "Wait, you're not going in there with me?"

"No way, man. You asked me to bring you here so I did. You never mentioned anything about me going in there with you."

"I paid you five hundred dollars to drive me a couple of miles here—I, at least, expect a little bit of return for that kind of money."

Jason let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, let's just get this finished. I hope you brought your flashlight." He grabbed his own out of the glove compartment, and after making sure it worked, he pushed out of his Jeep into the slightly chilled rainy night. He heard the other door slam shut and soon Nick was matching his footsteps to the tall chain length fence that surrounded the old building. Jason shined his light on a chain holding the doors shut that was secured with a padlock. "Doesn't look like you're getting in tonight."

Nick grunted and Jason watched him walk a few yards away. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Nick's triumphant voice said about a minute later.

Muttering under his breath, Jason walked over to where Nick was crouched on the ground. There was a damaged section of fence where a grown man could easily squeeze through. _Doesn't look like I'm going home anytime soon at all._ Pushing his small bag through first, Nick followed through the section behind it. Not seeing he had any other choice, Jason followed.

The two men quickly made their way across the yard and under the archway, finally receiving a reprieve from the constant pelting of the rain. Shining his flashlight, Jason saw the two French doors were standing slightly ajar, as if welcoming any wayward visitor who may wish to enter. Nick looked back at him as if telling him he could take the lead, but Jason nudged him on. No way in hell was he going into that creepy ass place first. He may not believe in ghosts, but he'd sure seen his fair share of horror movies and he knew what happened first—the one in the lead always died.

Not that he was wanting Nick to die. But if someone had to risk their neck, it wasn't going to be Jason.

The inside of the hotel was eerily quiet, every small noise echoing all around them. Jason could just make out the faint sounds of water dripping from somewhere to his right and scratching above his head. _Probably rats…God, I hate rats…_

Letting his flashlight play around the interior, he could make out the lobby. A large, rotting wooden desk was set against the far back wall and above the desk was a multitude of cubby holes where messages and mail for guests were kept. To either side of the lobby were large sofas and around them, several plush chairs placed in front of a long table. There was a bank of elevators along the left wall and a door that Jason figured probably led to a set of stairs.

"So, what do you think you're going to find in here?" Jason asked softly.

Nick shrugged. "Maybe nothing. Boss never said I had to prove there were ghosts in here, he just wanted me to check it out."

"I sure hope you're getting paid well for this."

Nick laughed. "It's not so bad."

"Yeah? Tell me that when we get out of here." He let out a deep breath. "So, where do you want to start first?"

Nick was pulling a small notebook from his bag. He flipped through a few pages before coming to the one he was looking for. "I'm wanting to go up to room 218."

"What's so damn special about room 218?"

"That's where a lot of sighting have been reported."

Jason rolled his eyes. "This is going to be a long night."

Seeing as how the elevators wouldn't be an option, the men slowly made their way up the metal staircase since they weren't entirely sure about the safety of the wooden made accesses. A few minutes later, they finally made it to the second level. They both had to push against the door since there was something blocking their way. After a few hard pushes, they nudged open the door enough for them to slip through.

The second floor didn't look any better that the lobby—fallen debris littered the floors, along with busted down doors and broken light fixtures. Nick walked ahead of Jason and it didn't take them long to find the room they were looking for.

"After you," Jason said with a wave of his hand.

Nick didn't say anything as he walked into the room, Jason right behind him.

"So, what's the story with this room anyway?"

"You live in this town and yet you know nothing about the Eclipse."

Jason shrugged. "Sorry."

Nick sighed. "There are stories around that say while the Eclipse was under construction back in the early 1900s, one of the construction workers fell to his death in this room. He was helping to tile the roof to one of the towers when it started to rain, and he slipped."

"So, what? Are you hoping to see ghost or something?"

Nick smiled. "I have a much bigger ghost in my sights."

"Of course you do." He followed as Nick led the way out of the room. "Which ghost are you hoping to find here?"

Nick turned back and smiled at him. "That would be the ghost of Eli Nelson."

"And he would be…?" They had entered the staircase and were climbing to the next floor.

"You live in a town of about 2,500 people, right?" Nick asked breathlessly as they continued to climb the stairs.

"I guess." Jason didn't understand where he was going with this.

"A town that small and you people never talk about this hotel?" The reporter pushed through another door, which opened easier than the last one. They were now standing in the third level hallway.

"What can I say? We have better things to do with our time than sit around and listen to a bunch of ghost stories."

"Maybe you should spend more time listening to them and cashing in. Do you know how much people will pay to stay in a place that's haunted?"

Jason arched a brow. "In case you haven't noticed, this place needs a major facelift."

"You're in the construction business—do something with it."

"Look, are you going to tell me who this Eli Nelson is or not?"

"Fine." Nick began moving down the hall. "Eli Nelson was one of the owners of this place back in the thirties. He had this wonderful idea to turn the hotel into some sort of health spa retreat, which included a hospital."

"Seems like a good idea."

"You're right. People came from all over to stay here, especially when they found out what he was offering."

"What's that?" Jason stepped over a fallen door.

Nick looked back at him. "He claimed to have a cure for cancer."

"And people believed him?"

The reporter shrugged. "Back then they did—cancer was something that was claiming so many people a year because they didn't have the technologies and medicines we have today to fight it. Nelson was offering a solution to their problem and everyone was so desperate at that point, they paid him money out of their asses for it."

"But he never had a cure, did he?"

Nick shook his head. "His miracle cure involved mixing crushed watermelon seeds, alcohol, brown corn silk, and carbolic acid together. He would open them up wherever the tumor happened to be and would pour the solution on it. The patients said it was torture, it only made their pain worse—everyone he treated ended up dying. Pretty soon after that, he was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, but he hung himself before he could serve out his full sentence." Nick turned his head to look at Jason once more. "The best part is Eli Nelson wasn't even a doctor."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Afraid not."

"Do they know how many people he killed?"

"No one's really sure. Many people speculate it was at least a hundred."

Jason wasn't sure how that was supposed to make him feel. To know his town was once home to some psychopath freaked him out a bit, even if it was decades ago. How could a person do that to others? To promise them a treatment and then do nothing but cause their loved ones even more pain angered the young man. What kind of person does that, allows a family to suffer like that in order to make a profit?

Jason felt a chill go through his body, but it wasn't because he was freaked. He looked around, confused, as the temperature dipped down and he saw his breath cloud in front of his face. He knew there were drafts in the old hotel but nothing that would explain the sudden temperature change. "Do you feel that?"

Nick shivered. "Yeah, definitely." He reached into his bag and pulled out a small camcorder. Flicking it on, he began to move it slowly around the hallway.

Jason was about to comment on the camera when all of a sudden his flashlight began to flicker, then went out altogether. He banged it against his palm in hopes that it would come on again, but the light remained dead. "Great." He squinted through the darkness, seeing if he could see Nick but the reporter was nowhere to be seen.

"Nick!" Still no answer. _What the hell is going on here? _"Hey, Nick! Where are you?"

A terrified scream rang out and echoed all around him. A flash of lightening revealed the hallway to be empty.

"NICK!"

A tiny voice in Jason's head was telling him that he needed to get out of there, but his annoying little conscience was telling him he needed to find out what happened to Nick. Jason could sit there and battle the voices all night, but he knew what he would do in the end. There was no way he could leave there without knowing what happened to the reporter. If Nick was hurt, then he would need help.

Another scream pierced the night and Jason's mind was made up. Moving cautiously in the dark, he made his way to the very end of the hallway. "Nick, can you hear me?" There was still no answer and Jason was becoming increasingly freaked.

Jason stood still for a minute, keeping his ears open for any minute noise and that's when he heard it—a faint gurgling coming from his right. Frowning, he pushed his way through the door closest to him. What he saw, he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life.

There, in the middle of the room, was the opaque figure of a man dressed in a white suit with a lavender tie, but that wasn't the part that freaked Jason out the most. What did scare him was what the man was doing. He was leaning over Nick who was lying on a gurney, a scalpel held firmly in his right hand and though it was dark, Jason could just make out the dark stain of blood on the blade. Hearing a faint _drip drip_, Jason looked closer and saw Nick's throat was slit wide open and blood was dripping down into a large puddle beneath him._ Oh, no way…no friggin' way…_

Jason began backing up slowly out of the room. He spotted the small camcorder on the floor and as he bent to pick it up he lost his footing and tripped, falling to the ground. He got up just as quick and saw the man was looking at him, a sadistic smile on his face.

"Looks like we have our next patient," Eli Nelson said in a gravelly voice.

Jason didn't waste any more time. He quickly scooped up and the camera and ran out of the room. No way was he becoming that psycho's next victim. As he clamored down the stairs, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Jason never looked back as he raced out the door and jumped into his Jeep, grateful that for once, he didn't lock it.

He shoved the keys into the ignition and barreled out of the parking lot. As he raced down the road back towards town, Jason couldn't help but think his opinion on ghosts had seriously changed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the wonderful reviews...I really hope you continue to enjoy this!**

**Big, huge thanks to my two fantastic betas...Bayre and Sojourner!**

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_**One week later…**_

Dean Winchester was miserable, which was a big change from just a couple of days ago. A couple of days ago, Dean felt total and complete bliss. Of course, any guy who had the chance to bring Tara Benchley to bed would be happy too. Yep, Dean figured not many guys could say that at all and even though some tiny part of him enjoyed being nothing more than a peon for the Hollywood snobbery, Tara had been the highlight of his week. Oh, hell, he'd just go on and say it—she'd been the highlight of his life.

Now that their hunt in Hollywood was over, he and Sam decided to stick around and take a few days for themselves—no hunt, no thoughts of the police chasing them, nothing to worry about except for what their next meal was going to be. But after two days, Dean was beginning to climb the walls. He didn't like to stay still for any length of time and really the only reason he even agreed to it was because of Sam.

He knew his brother was still hurting because of Madison. Anyone could have looked in Sam's eyes and seen the pain lying in the depths of his brother's soul. Sam tried to brush it off and pretend he was okay, but Dean knew better. He wondered if his brother forgot he could read him like a book. Sure, it wasn't as easy as it had once been when they were growing up, but Dean liked to believe he was getting better at it. It bothered and frustrated Dean how Sam could just put on a smile and act as if it didn't affect him, mainly because the older man felt he was looking into a mirror. Playing like he was okay was his job. It was pretty hard to fool someone who'd spent their life perfecting the art of hiding pain.

At times it made Dean wonder if that was what Sam saw and felt every time Dean closed him off. How was it that Sam hadn't decked him yet? Dean couldn't stand for Sam to be like this and he was pretty much ready to knock the crap out of the kid. He wanted Sam to have that proper chance to mourn, to deal with his emotions, but he knew it just wouldn't be. Sam wasn't about to take some time for himself—he told Dean they had a job to do; they still needed to defeat the yellow-eyed demon once and for all.

Maybe after that was over Sam could actually take some time for himself. If not, then Dean would surely force him to. Dean didn't like to pressure Sam into anything, but if it meant healing his brother and making sure he stayed together, then dammit, Dean was going to do it.

As for right now, he needed something to do and he needed it pronto.

"Please tell me you got something for us to do," Dean groaned into his pillow. After giving up on the five channels available on the television, he'd opted for a nap which wasn't working out any better for him.

Sam looked up from his laptop and smiled. "You sure are cranky today."

Dean opened one eye to glare at him. "Can you blame me? We've been sitting in this room for two freakin' days and the only action I've seen involved a very big cockroach and you screaming like a girl."

It was Sam's turn to glare. "I did not scream like a girl."

"Dude, I never saw anyone move as fast as you did when you saw it in the bathroom."

"At least I'm not afraid of rats."

Dean turned around on his back so he could give Sam a pointed look. "Rats are big, hairy, and full of rabies."

"And cockroaches are disgusting and full of diseases."

"They can be squished—a rat can't."

Sam sighed. "Dean, why are we having this argument?"

Dean shrugged. "Because I have nothing better to do."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his laptop. "Well, I think I may have found something."

That definitely got Dean's attention. He jumped up from the bed and joined his brother at the small table. "What is it?" he asked, his voice a little too eager. At Sam's look of amusement, he cleared his throat and asked again, his voice more controlled.

Sam chuckled, but turned the computer where Dean could see it. He could see a few pop-up windows on the screen but the main one was on the homepage for the _Arkansas Times_. A bold headline read: REPORTER KILLED IN HOTEL. Dean took a few seconds to skim the article, then turned to Sam, confused.

"How is this our kind of thing?"

"Did you notice the name of the hotel?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, the Eclipse. What's so special about it?"

Sam raised his brows in surprise. "Dude, it's one of the most haunted hotels in the United States. There are tons of reported sighting and stories going around about it. There are about fifty different sites that are devoted to it."

"It's not like another one of those Hell Hound sites, is it?" Dean didn't have the patience to deal with another set of amateur filmmakers like they did in Richardson, Texas. The only thing they'd succeeded in doing was messing with stuff they didn't understand and getting in the brothers' way. Dean was not about to do that again.

"I don't think we have to worry about those two again. The best site I've found deals with the history of the hotel and documented sightings. It looks to be professionally done, like by an organization or something." Sam grabbed the laptop and turned it to face him once again. He hit a couple of keys and brought up another screen. "This isn't the first death to occur there."

"An organization? Like what, TAPS? And this isn't the first death?"

"There have been several deaths to occur over the past twenty years or so. But the police have never come up with a murder weapon or a suspect, so they've left them as unsolved cases."

Dean arched a brow. "That's because they'll never believe a ghost was responsible for the deaths."

"Exactly." Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, it may not be anything, but it can't hurt to check it out, can it?"

Dean let out a long exhale. "I guess not. And if it means we get out of this motel, then I'm all for it."

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It didn't take long for the Winchesters to check out of the motel. Sam had to laugh at the way his brother quickly packed a room especially when there was another hunt on the horizon. Sam knew why Dean had agreed to take it easy for the past two days and it had nothing to so with the hunt at Stage 9. As far as hunts went, that one was cake; the brothers barely even had to lift a finger. That's not saying Sam didn't think it wasn't important—they'd managed to save a man's life, even if he was a complete jackass. It just went to show they couldn't pick and choose which victims they saved.

No, Dean agreed to stay because he thought it would help Sam and the younger Winchester wasn't about to argue with the older. If he did that, Dean would only feel unwanted because in his way, Dean was trying to help Sam and Sam understood that. While some people showed they cared by talking with you, Dean showed he cared by doing little things for him—whether it be letting Sam choose where they ate that night, driving the Impala, or staying a few more nights in a motel for nothing more than rest. Dean had been like that since they were kids so Sam knew when not to knock his efforts down.

As Dean pulled onto Interstate 40, which would take them into the heart of Arkansas, Sam pulled out some printouts he'd made before they left the motel. He wanted to familiarize himself with the history of the Eclipse since he knew there was no way Dean was going to stop and look at the research. His brother had always preferred to leave those details to Sam. The only thing Dean wanted to know was where to point his gun and when.

"Tell me what else you know about this place," Dean spoke up after a long silence, startling Sam.

Sam quirked an eyebrow, figuring the main reason Dean wanted to know about the hotel was because he couldn't find a decent classic rock station. "Actually, I found out Dad had it marked in his journal."

"Really?" Dean seemed very interested now.

Putting his papers aside, Sam picked up the leather-bound journal from the floor and flipped it to a page he'd marked. "Dad was worried about the deaths, but he never could find the time to check it out."

"Did Dad say what he thought may be causing the deaths?"

"Yeah, let me find it." Sam browsed through the page and finally came to a passage, written in their father's messy and practically illegible handwriting. "He contributed the deaths to the spirit of a man named Eli Nelson—he was some quack who passed himself off as a doctor. He experimented on patients with some concoction he claimed able to cure cancer."

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Now, is it just me or does he sound like Dr. Ellicot?"

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "I guess you could say that."

"And while we're on that, this isn't going to turn out to be another one of those hunts, is it? You know, where I get shot again?"

Sam sighed—he really wished Dean would forget about the events at the Roosevelt Asylum. It had been almost a year ago now, and it was an accident. "Dean, I was possessed, you know that."

"Who's to say you won't get possessed by this freak?"

"Because none of the victims that have been killed were thought to be possessed. Dad thought it was a vengeful spirit, seeking out to kill anyone who showed up at the Eclipse."

"I'm just saying, Sammy—someone calls you on your cell phone while we're in there and tells you to meet them somewhere, don't do it."

Sam shot Dean a look. "You want us to hold hands when we go in there?"

"Don't put it past me if it means your ass doesn't get possessed. I've had enough of that this year alone to last me a lifetime, thank you very much."

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing very well Dean would do just that, if for no other reason that to piss his younger sibling off.

"So, tell me about this freaky ass doctor," Dean continued to push into the case.

Sam closed up the journal and retrieved his printouts once more. He shuffled through a few of them before he came to the one he was looking for. "So, Eli Nelson was known as quite the businessman in his day. After establishing several successful luxury hotels across Arkansas, he bought the Eclipse in 1931 and it stayed under his ownership until around 1939. He changed the Eclipse from a luxury hotel into a health spa retreat, but he catered only to cancer patients."

"Because he wanted to experiment on them?"

"That and he figured it was a sure-fire way to make more money. At the time, people believed him to be a savior. They really thought he had found the cure to cancer."

"Just goes to show you people are willing to believe anything."

"You know that's not exactly true, Dean. Hell, people have a hard time believing what we're doing is real."

"That's because they're narrow-minded and they don't want to believe."

"Would you if you were in their shoes? The monsters and ghost stories they were told about when they were younger is actually very real?"

Dean remained silent as if he were considering what Sam was saying. Finally, he shrugged a shoulder. "No, I guess not." Then he glanced over at Sam, a cocky smile on his face. "I guess it's a good thing we were raised to believe otherwise, huh?"

"Yeah…maybe," Sam conceded softly.

Then again, Sam wasn't so sure. It was why he went across the country to go to college, after all. He wanted to get away from all the stories he was told as he was growing up. He wanted to be able to just put them in a box and place it high on a shelf for a while, pretend he was normal for once. And it worked—beautifully, actually—until his life came calling back to him in the form of his brother showing up at his apartment in Palo Alto a little over a year ago. It was then Sam knew he couldn't forget about the stories and the creatures that went bump in the night—they'd always be with him no matter where and how far he went.

Once you learned about what existed in the dark, it was hard to ignore the shifting shadows.

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The hunters finally arrived in the tiny town of Travers, Arkansas right around midnight. The wonderful thing about small towns was that they always had a few businesses that never seemed to shut down, as if they were welcoming weary travelers no matter what time of the day it was. The other wonderful thing about small towns was they had cheap motels—and cheap motels meant easy access no matter what time of late night or early morning the two of them pulled into town.

Pulling into the parking lot of the Travers Inn, Dean promptly shut the engine and nudged Sam, who'd been sleeping for the past couple of hours, awake. It was a habit Dean had gotten used to over the years—he knew it was hard for Sam to get sleep, especially with the constant aggravation of his so-called "destiny" and worries about the demon's plans coming to fruition. When Sam was finally able to get the sleep he so desperately needed, Dean wasn't going to do anything to spoil that for him.

"Are we here?" Sam asked blearily, wiping away the sleep from his eyes.

"Welcome to the Boonies, Sammy—or what the town locals like to call Travers, Arkansas." Dean got out of the car and heard Sam following suit. "You don't have to come—I'm just gonna see about getting us a room."

"No, I need to stretch my legs. I've been cooped up in that car for too long." The brothers began walking in tandem towards the office.

"Not my fault you're a tall freak of nature," Dean grumbled good-naturedly.

"No, that would be genetics."

Dean pulled open the door to the office, letting Sam enter first. "Dude, no one in our family is seven foot tall."

"I'm not seven foot, Dean."

"Give it another couple of months and you will be. I swear, every time I look at you, you grow another inch." Dean looked around the tiny room, searching for any sign of life. The only noise was coming from a small television resting on the counter, tuned to an infomercial trying to sell the latest stain remover. Spotting a tiny silver bell beside the television, Dean hit it a few times.

Sam smiled. "You're just upset people keep mistaking you for the younger brother since I'm taller than you."

"I'm telling you, it's not normal, Sammy," Dean grunted disgustedly. He rang the bell again. "Where the hell is the clerk?"

As if to answer Dean's question, a mousy young man, who appeared to be around Sam's age, with dark tousled hair and brown eyes that seemed about to pop out of his head, greeted the brothers with a smile. "Can I help you, fellas?" he asked in a heavy Southern accent.

"Yeah, we'd like to get a room for a couple of nights…" Dean glanced at the clerk's nametag. "Robbie."

Robbie's smile got bigger at the use of his name. "I'll surely be glad to help you." He turned down the television and reached under the counter to pull out a ledger. "Will that be one king or two queens?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at the insinuation in the question. Why did everyone assume Sam and he were gay? Did they really give off that vibe every time they walked into a room? He saw Robbie flinch at the way he was looking at him, but before he could say anything to the young man, Sam stepped up to bat.

"Two queens, please," Sam answered, a patient smile gracing his face.

"I—I'm sorry," Robbie stammered. "I never meant to assume…"

Sam waved a hand. "Really, Robbie—it's okay. No harm done." He looked pointedly at Dean. "Right, Dean?"

Dean forced a tight smile. "Right—no harm done."

Robbie let out a relieved sigh and the smile once again lit up his face. He pushed the ledger towards the brothers. "I just need one of you to fill this out and I'll need a credit card."

Sam stepped back to let Dean fill out the paperwork and secure them a room. About ten minutes later, Robbie pushed a key towards Dean. "Okay, you fellas will be in room six. I hope you enjoy your stay and if you need anything at all, just give me a holler."

Sam nodded his thanks and walked out the door as Dean picked up the key and waved it at the young clerk. "Thanks."

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Robbie Mallette couldn't keep his eyes off the two men as they walked out of the office towards the black classic sitting in the parking lot. He knew as soon as he saw them they were brothers, but he didn't want them to know he knew. It would freak them out too much and he'd done that with enough people in his life. But it was so obvious a fact, a blind man would have been able to see it. But the young clerk also knew that because it was the way he and his brother acted around each other before James passed away all those years ago.

Robbie could read the mannerisms as if he were reading a book. He immediately picked out the shorter of the two—_Dean_—was the oldest because of the way he stepped in front of the taller one—_Sammy_—while they were in the office. It wouldn't be blatantly obvious to a casual observer, but Robbie wasn't some casual observer. He knew it was a protective stance—one his older brother did all the time with him. Robbie could pick up on the shorter man's vibe—he was ready for anything that may jump out and put the younger one in harm's way.

The mousy clerk missed that kind of love and protection he'd once had. Every time he saw it, it made his heart ache because he knew he could never have it anymore. That love and devotion had been taken away from him ten years ago when James was killed in a hunting accident. His brother's death stayed with him everywhere he went and he couldn't find any release from it; maybe he never would.

That wasn't saying Robbie didn't make up for his brother's absence. He'd finally found a way to get what he wanted; it was just too bad that it was illegal. If he couldn't have a brother, then he'd just find one to take James' place. He knew it wouldn't be the same, but at least it would be something. No one would ever truly be like Jake, but at least he could find a decent substitute. He'd done it a couple of years ago and it was going pretty good until Matthew tried to get away, but Robbie took care of that. He couldn't have him running off and ratting him out to the cops. The town already thought he was creepy enough and were just looking for a reason to run him out or string him up, though he was pretty sure they'd vote for the latter.

Robbie reached into his pocket and pulled out his worn leather wallet. Tucked neatly into a little slot were two pictures—one of him and James and the other of Matthew. Maybe it was time to replace Matthew as well. Enough time had passed since his death and he could feel the pangs of loneliness start to assault him once again.

Hearing a door slam, Robbie looked up to see Dean handing Sam a small duffel while he kept the bigger one for himself. He pushed his brother towards their room and it was then Robbie knew it would have to be Dean. Dean could actually fill the void that had been missing in his life for so long. Dean could actually be that big brother he'd always sought ever since James died.

There was just one obstacle standing his way, one that he hadn't needed to worry about with Matthew—a younger brother. Something inside Robbie told him Sam wasn't going to allow the clerk to come between him and his older brother. Sam was going to fight with everything he had, just as Robbie would do if the roles were reversed. Robbie could take care of that, though—it was a minor obstacle.

And as Mama always said—_never let any obstacle stand in the way of your goals._


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews everyone! To say that I was blown away by them would be a major understatement!**

**Just so you know, my updates may take a little longer than I like but it's only because I have started my next semester at college, but I will update as soon as I can!**

**Big thanks to my two awesome betas...Bayre and Sojourner!**

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The small town of Travers didn't boast anything better in motels. Sam always thought small towns should at least have nice motel rooms since they didn't have much of anything else. If they wanted the tourists to stay for more than a few hours before they ran away screaming from boredom, then they should do whatever they could to make them feel as comfortable as possible. As soon as Sam stepped into the motel room, he knew he wasn't going to get what he was hoping for.

The room, to simply put it, looked like crap. With it's drab cream (or what Sam imagined to be white so many years ago) walls, fading brown carpet, and window treatments he was sure came from the seventies, he'd stayed in much better. And those motel rooms were in towns that were way off the map, which made this one even worse. He supposed he shouldn't complain too much, because after all, he and Dean could be staying in a far worse place. At least the room had two decent beds, a dresser (though they never used it because their meager belongings remained in their bags), a small television, and what he hoped to be a decent bathroom.

Sam automatically put his bag on the bed furthest from the door, knowing Dean was never going to let him have the other. It was something Dean had always done, even when they were kids and they had to share a bed while their father got the other one. Dean had to sleep closest to the door because like he told Sam all those years ago, if something came into the room to get Sam, it would have to get through the older hunter first before it could get to him. Sam was grateful to have that barrier and protection and he wasn't sure if he'd ever thanked his brother for that.

Well, he wasn't about to do it now. There was no reason in the world to get sappy in the middle of the night—for one, Sam was too damn tired to put the energy into it and two, Dean would never let him live it down. Why even bother to give his brother ammunition to use against him?

Sam collapsed on the bed, exhausted. "You can have the shower first."

Dean smiled at his younger brother's sprawled form. "Good, I was going to take it anyway."

"You're welcome." He closed his eyes and heard the sound of running water after a couple of minutes. He didn't know how long Dean stayed in there before he felt the older man nudge his booted foot. Sam barely opened his eyes to see Dean standing at the foot of his bed, in nothing but a pair of boxers and a towel draped over his shoulders.

"You're up," Dean said as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"Too tired," Sam murmured.

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself." He threw the towel to the floor and grabbed the remote for the small television. He turned it on and began to run through the channels, seeing what the motel had to offer in the form of cable. "Where did you want to start tomorrow?"

This time Sam opened his eyes wider and let out a sigh. "I think we should go ahead and check out the Eclipse—run EMF and thermal scanner."

Dean glanced at Sam. "Wouldn't it be better if we did that at night?"

Sam threw up a hand, only to have it fall back to the bed. "I don't think it really matters. If this place is as haunted as everyone says, then it will be orbing like crazy no matter what time of day it is."

"Yeah, but it also makes it easier for someone to see what we're doing. With a town this small, you can be sure they'll recognize an outsider when they seen one and we really don't need the cops breathing down our necks."

Sam sighed in resignation. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

There was silence as in the room as Sam closed his eyes once more and Dean continued his channel surfing.

Dean chuckled a moment later. "That's what I'm talking about."

Praying it wasn't late-night porn, Sam opened an eye to see what had grabbed his brother's attention. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Sam groaned as he saw an old episode of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ was airing.

Dean arched a brow. "What's wrong with this?"

"How can you watch this crap, Dean?"

The older Winchester nodded his head towards the television. "Dude, have you seen how hot this chick is?"

"It doesn't matter how hot she is, Dean. That show is so far from the truth, it's laughable. I mean, killing vampires by staking them through the heart with a piece of wood? One girl who is the only one who can save the world? It's ridiculous."

Dean turned up the volume. "You really are a killjoy, you know that?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah…I know I am."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean blinked his eyes rapidly as the morning light filtered in through the thinning, brown curtains. Groaning, he turned his head the other way while still maintaining a loose grip on his knife he kept under the pillow. It was the hunter's opinion that the sun was evil—what else could you call a big fiery ball of gas that had a nasty habit of waking you up way too early? If there was some way to banish the sun, Dean would have done it; but then again, that meant the end of the world and did he really want to deal with that on top of everything else?

He didn't know how long he stayed that way before finally conceding to the sunlight. There was just no way he was getting back to sleep. Opening his eyes to slits, he looked over and saw Sam was still sleeping soundly. _Lucky bastard…_

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Dean stretched his joints until he heard several satisfying pops. He then grabbed his watch from the small dresser between the two beds and peered at the time—seven-fifteen. _Definitely way too early to be up…the sun is definitely going to die for this._ Sighing heavily, he got up from his bed and grabbed some clothes from his duffel. Slipping into the bathroom, he quietly changed. He didn't want to wake Sam if he could help it—it was a welcome change to see Sam sleeping so peacefully.

Usually his kid brother was the one who was up at the crack of dawn, though from his vantage point, Dean didn't see what was so damn special about this time of morning. Then again, the older man was sure if he had to deal with the freaky dreams and constant visions, he'd be an early riser as well. Dean guessed waking up served as an escape for Sam—the sooner he woke up, the sooner he could get away from constant nightmares.

Dean emerged from the bathroom about ten minutes later and looked over to see Sam still hadn't moved. Figuring he'd feel more like a morning person after he got some caffeine in his system, Dean grabbed up the key to the room and softly made his way out, taking care to lock the door behind him.

He wasn't really sure where he would be able to find a decent cup of coffee since Sam and he came into town so late. He had to admit, he didn't really pay attention to the scenery on the drive in—he'd only been concerned with finding a place for them to crash for the night. Now, as he took in the sights around him, he saw Travers was like any other typical small town. On either side of the two-lane street were sidewalks and small shops. There was a large park across from the motel and even this time in the morning people were starting to mill around.

Hearing excited squeals, Dean turned his head to see a group of children with backpacks running down the sidewalk towards a school that was a little ways down the street. A traffic cop was doing her best to keep traffic flowing and as she glanced up at him, he gave a small wave. He continued on his way to the office and was surprised to see the clerk from last night was still there.

"You're still here?"

Robbie smiled eagerly at him. "I'm actually about to get off in a few minutes. I'm just waiting for Brenda to get here."

Dean nodded. "Hey, can you tell me where I can get a cup of coffee around here?"

"Moe's Diner has the best in town." He nodded to a small diner that was in between a shoe store and a bank. "It's right there." He nervously picked at a speck of paint on the counter. "Look, I really want to apologize for my comment last night. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable and I'm sorry if I did."

Dean shook his head. "Don't worry about it—it happens to us all the time. I guess people have a hard time believing brothers still stick together."

"So, ya'll are brothers?"

"Yeah, Sammy's my kid brother."

Robbie began to toy with a thread hanging off his shirt. "So, uh…what brings you fellas to Travers?"

Dean studied the kid in front of him. He sure was asking a lot of questions, but he blamed it on natural curiosity. With a town this small, people became suspicious about anyone new who showed up and became protective of their territory. Finally, Dean figured it couldn't hurt to answer his question—with a lie of course. "We're from the _Arkansas Times_. We're doing a follow-up on the story about our colleague that was killed."

"The one over at the Eclipse?"

"You know about it?"

Robbie nodded enthusiastically. "Everyone around here knows about the Eclipse. It's the only thing that's put us on the map." The young man leaned forward conspiratorially. "You know they say the place is haunted?"

Dean feigned surprise. "Really?"

Another nod. "Oh, yeah. Jason said that was why that reporter was here."

Dean arched a brow. "Jason? This Jason have a last name?"

"Jason Stewart."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

"His dad owns Stewart Construction—he should be there."

Dean nodded and tapped his fist on the counter. "Thanks, Robbie." Dean was about to leave when another thought hit him. "Hey, can you tell me where I can find the Eclipse Hotel?"

Robbie smiled. "I can do better than that—I can show you, if you want me to."

Dean heard the eagerness in the kid's voice. It was almost as if he were desperate to come along, almost as if this would be the best thing that's happened to him in months. Dean recognized that loneliness—the vibes Robbie was giving off was leading the hunter to believe he was a loner of sorts. Dean didn't know what it could hurt to let him tag along, besides the fact Sam may not be too happy about it. _Oh, well…it might do Sam some good to shake him up a little bit. _"We're not gonna head out there right now, but I'll let you know when we do."

Robbie reached for a slip of paper and scribbled on it. Holding it out to Dean he said, "This is my number…you can call me anytime."

Dean took the paper and held it up. "Thanks."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was just stepping out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam surrounding him, as Dean stepped into the room, a cup of coffee in each hand. "Hey, where have you been?"

Dean handed one of the paper cups to Sam. "I went out to get some coffee."

Sam seized the proffered beverage and took a tentative sip. "How long have you been up?"

Dean walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge. "About an hour, I guess."

"You couldn't sleep?"

"Sam, quit worrying—I'm fine." At Sam's raised eyebrows and pursed lips he added, "The sun woke me up. That's all, so drop it."

Sam held up a hand in mock surrender. "All right—whatever you say."

"Good." Dean took a long sip of his coffee. "So, I figured out what we could do until tonight."

Sam reached into his duffel and pulled out a plaid, buttoned-shirt. "What's that?"

"I talked to Robbie and he told me about the guy who was with the reporter when he was killed."

Sam frowned. "That's where you've been this entire time?"

Dean shrugged. "I went in there to ask where I could get some coffee. Since he's a local, I figured maybe he would know something. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." Sam couldn't tell Dean the clerk freaked him out just a bit. He didn't know what it was about him; something was a little off about the young man. He seemed a little too anxious when they showed up last night, but then again, maybe it was his imagination. That's what Dean would blame it on and Sam wasn't up for such a stupid argument so early in the morning. Sam decided to drop the subject. "So, what did he say?"

"He said the guy's name was Jason Stewart. We should be able to find him at his dad's construction office—Stewart Construction."

Sam buttoned up his shirt and nodded. "Let's get over there then."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It didn't take the Winchesters long to find the construction company, granted it was the only one in town. After getting directions from Brenda, the other motel clerk, Dean guided the car down the main street and turned left on Roberts Drive. Driving down a couple of blocks, an old red brick building with a sign reading STEWART CONSTRUCTION came into view. Dean glided smoothly into a parking space right in front of the door, and getting out as one, the brothers entered.

A woman with short, curly graying-brown hair stopped typing on a computer and looked at them through wire rimmed glasses. A plaque on her desk identified her as Carol Rivers. "Can I help you boys with something?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. If anything, she looked annoyed at being interrupted from her work.

Dean looked back at Sam and nodded. The psychic stepped forward, his most charming smile planted firmly on his face. Dean groaned inwardly as he saw Carol instantly warm to his brother.

"Hi, my name is Sam Stanley and this is my partner Dean Lewis. We're reporters from—"

The secretary became cold again. "Let me guess—the _Arkansas Times_?"

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Y—Yes," he faltered. "Is there something wrong?"

Carol sighed. "You're only about the third reporter from that newspaper this week. Don't you guys ever talk to each other?"

"It's a big newsroom," Dean said, smiling, but frowning as soon as Carol turned her glare onto him.

Sam smiled understandingly. "I want to apologize for all of the intrusions. I understand how incredibly busy you must be. We're just here to do a follow-up and we'll only need to speak to Jason for a few minutes."

"Young Mr. Stewart has answered all of your questions. He's troubled enough as it is about what happened the other night and you reporters and cops are only making it worse for him."

"Again, I apologize for that and I promise you we'll make this as quick as possible." Sam fixed her with an earnest gaze and smiled softly. "Please, this is our job—we're only doing what our editor is asking of us. I'm sure you can understand that."

Carol studied him for a moment longer and finally nodded. "I'll see if Jason will speak to you, but I can't promise anything."

Sam smiled brightly once again. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Rivers."

The older woman blushed. "Please, it's Carol." She rose from her desk. "I'll be right back. You two just have a seat over there."

The brothers nodded and took a seat on a couple of comfortable office chairs that were resting against a wall. Dean picked up an old auto magazine from the coffee table in front of them and nudged Sam. "I think she likes you, Sammy."

"Shut up," Sam muttered under his breath.

Dean laughed and turned his attention to the magazine. It was almost ten minutes before Carol came back out into the waiting area, accompanied by a young man with spiky brown hair.

"I'm Jason Stewart. Can I help you guys?"

Sam stood up and after setting his magazine down, Dean did the same. "Yeah, we're from the _Arkansas Times_. We'd like to ask you some questions if you don't mind," Dean said.

Jason looked at his watch and sighed. "Look, guys, I really don't have a lot of time. Is there any way we can make this as quick as possible?"

"That's no problem at all," Dean acquiesced. "Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" He looked pointedly at Carol and bit back a smile as her saw her bristle. He didn't care too much about hurting her feelings. If she wanted to be bitchy, then he couldn't help but return the favor. Besides, he'd been running behind in his quota for pissing people off and he needed to catch up.

Jason nodded at the brothers. "We can go into my office." He turned to the still-flustered secretary. "Carol, will you hold my calls?"

Carol nodded tightly. "Sure, Mr. Stewart." With one final scathing look at Dean, she returned to her desk and resumed her work at the computer.

As the Winchesters followed Jason down a long carpeted hallway, Sam nudged Dean in the side with his elbow. "Dude, what the hell was that back there?" he whispered.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "What? I didn't think Sally Sunshine needed to be in on the conversation."

"Did you have to be such a dick about it?"

"Oh, don't be such a pansy, Sammy." At Sam's glare, Dean added, "Yes, I could have been nicer about it, okay? But why should I? She wasn't exactly brimming with happiness when she saw us."

"She's just doing her job, Dean."

"And another thing—I thought a secretary was supposed to be a people person."

Sam was about to argue when Jason came to a stop in front of a wooden door. "Here we go," the young contractor said.

Walking into the office, Dean wanted to say he was impressed, but it only reminded of how much he hated the upper class. The office was tastefully decorated with bright cream walls and oak crown molding. The desk was rather large and appeared to be made of maple, while wooden bookshelves lined the back wall with architectural and design books lining every shelf. On the opposite wall was a large entertainment center, housing a large Plasma television along with a DVD player and a top-of-the-line stereo system. A couple of paintings hung on the walls and the plush carpeting was a deep burgundy.

"Nice office," Dean said.

"It's my dad's. He's out of town right now, so I'm using it." Jason closed the door and walked around to his desk while holding out his hand to two cushioned chairs seated in front of it. "Please have a seat."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam and the hunters took their seat.

Jason leaned back in his leather chair and laced his fingers together, resting them on his chest. "So, what can I do for you?"

Sam pulled out a small notepad from his jacket pocket along with a pen. "We understand you were the last person with Nick Douglas before he died."

Jason nodded. "I was."

"How did you meet him?"

"I was at One Shots." At the Winchesters' confused look he added, "It's the only bar in town. I was there last Tuesday night, trying to wind down and Nick was in there. He was asking questions about the old Eclipse Hotel but no one was really paying him any attention, except for me. He asked if I could take him over there and offered me some money. I didn't have anything else to do, so I agreed."

"About what time was this?"

"I don't know…I guess around midnight."

"What happened when you got there?" Dean asked.

"Nothing at first. We just kind of walked around and Nick told me a little about this history of the place."

"Isn't it supposed to be haunted?"

Jason chuckled wryly. "That's what the locals around here say."

"And you didn't know about the history?" Sam asked.

The young man gave a half-shrug. "I never really cared to know about it. You have to understand, it's just talk."

"You don't believe any of it?"

"Not really."

"Can you tell us what happened to Nick?"

Jason let out a tired sigh. "We went up to the next floor and then our flashlights went out. I called out to Nick, but I didn't get any answer. Then I heard this terrified scream."

"Was it Nick?" Dean asked.

"It sounded like him, so I called for him again. I was starting to get freaked and I seriously considered hauling ass out of there, but Nick screamed again. I started walking down the hallway, and I heard a strange sound coming from one of the rooms."

"What kind of strange sound?"

"Someone was gurgling…like they were choking or something."

"What happened next?"

"I went into the room and that's when I found Nick." Jason pointed at his neck. "His throat was slit wide open and…there was blood all around him. I freaked, man. I got out of there as fast as I could."

"Did you see who did it?"

Jason opened his mouth to say something, but shut it just as quickly. He did this a few times, as if he wasn't sure his mouth could actually form the words he was thinking.

"What is it?" Sam asked softly.

"I need to have your word that this will be completely off the record."

"Yeah, that's no problem at all."

The contractor reached into his father's desk and pulled out a small video camera. Wordlessly, he walked over to the entertainment center and after hooking up the camera to the television, he looked back at the brothers. "What I saw, there's no way I can explain it. It's better if I just show you guys."

He pressed play on the camera and a picture appeared on the large screen. Sam and Dean watched in silence as the scene played out in front of them. A hallway appeared and the person behind the camera began to walk. He came to a stop at the door and all of a sudden the beam of a flashlight faded out and there was nothing but darkness.

"This shows us nothing," Dean said.

"Wait for it." Jason pointed at the screen as the night-vision option came on and the scene before them was displayed in a dull green. Nick opened the door and was met by the figure of a man dressed in a white suit and tie. He was yanked into the room and his scream echoed in the office. The camera fell from his grasp onto the floor and though the picture jumped, luckily the camera still recorded what was happening.

"Don't worry…I'm going to take good care of you," the man said.

"What the hell?" Nick asked, softly. "You're him, aren't you?" The reporter's feet came into view as he slowly backed away. "You stay away from me, you hear me? Stay away from me!"

"_Nick!"_ Jason's frantic yell was heard in the background.

The man said nothing and Nick was pushed roughly onto a gurney lying in the middle of the trashed room. The man in the white suit smiled maliciously and a thin silver blade glinted in the moonlight. Nick's terrified scream was cut short as the blade swooped down and slashed the reporter's throat. Nick's body convulsed and a soft gurgling sound emanated from his throat. The sound of a door softly opening was heard, but the killer's gaze was riveted on the blood dripping to the floor.

Footsteps were heard shuffling away and the camera was picked up from the floor. Suddenly, there was a loud thud as the person holding the camera fell to the floor. The lens somehow remained focused on the killer as a sadistic smile once again crept onto his face.

"Looks like we have our next patient."

The man on the floor scrambled to his feet and ran out the room, the camera still recording the events. The picture jumped and blurred in and out of focus as the man sprinted out of the hotel and into his car.

Jason reached over and shut the camera off. He looked over at the Winchesters, his eyes almost pleading. "Tell me that wasn't real. There can't be any such thing as ghosts."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, but didn't answer the young man's question.

"You didn't give this to the police?" Dean asked.

Jason scoffed. "Are you kidding me? The police never would have believed this and there was no way I was about to be turned into the town loon." He pointed at the screen. "I mean, that was a friggin' ghost!"

"Your secretary said several reporters have been by to interview you. Did you show them this tape?"

Jason shook his head.

"Then why are you showing it to us?"

Jason shrugged. "I'm not really sure of that myself."

"Is there any way we can have a copy of this tape?" Sam asked.

"A copy? Hell, I'll do better than that." He unhooked the camera from the television and handed it over to Sam. "You can have the whole damn thing!"

"Thanks." Sam took the camera from the frazzled man.

"Are you kidding? You're doing me a big favor." He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "The sooner I can I get rid of that, the sooner I can put this whole thing behind me."

The brothers rose from their chairs. "Well, I think we have all we need," Dean said holding out his hand. Jason shook it quickly and did the same with Sam.

"You're not going to print my name with that ghost nonsense, are you? I mean, it's the last thing I need…my dad's business needs."

Sam shook his head as they walked towards the door. "Your secret's safe with us."

A smile of relief appeared on Jason's face. "If you guys need anything else, let me know."

Sam and Dean didn't say anything as they made their way out of the building. They slid into the car and Dean brought the classic to life. "So, what do you think?"

Sam frowned. "That's definitely a spirit on that tape."

Dean nodded. "I agree. Looks like Dad was right."

Sam nodded but didn't say anything.

"We'll go out to the hotel tonight and see if we can find anything." He pulled out onto the street and started towards their motel. "With luck, this will be a quick salt and burn."


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for the awesome reviews, everyone! They mean the world to me!**

**Big thanks to my two betas...Bayre and Sojourner!!!**

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Robbie sighed as he let himself in to his small clapboard home. It wasn't much, but at least it was something he could call his own. He'd been renting it for the last couple of years from Brenda, but it was almost as if he owned it himself. Brenda never stopped by; she let him be and only asked for the rent to be on time, which Robbie was very diligent in doing.

It was sparsely decorated with only the necessities. In the living room, there was a couch, a small recliner and a television tray that held a small thirteen-inch television. He didn't have a dining room table because he always ate at Moe's or zapped something quickly in the microwave. His bedroom was just as sparse with a twin-sized bed and small particle board dresser. But Robbie didn't need much—he didn't need all that stuff to make it seem like a home. As long as he had a place he could come home to every night, then it was home enough for him.

As he threw down his keys on the counter, he walked to the small mini-fridge and plucked out a beer. He popped the top, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder and went into the living room to sit down. Taking a sip, he let a smile play on his lips.

Today had been a good day and it had only just begun. He had to admit, he'd been very happy to see Dean come into the motel office this morning. And to top it all off, he was going to get to tag along with Dean tonight—of course, the only downside of it was going to be that the little brother would be with them as well. While it bothered Robbie a little, he also knew it wouldn't be long before he wouldn't have to worry about Sam anymore.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt Dean came into his life for a reason. It was getting closer and closer to James' birthday; he would have been twenty-five this year. Robbie was looking for something to fill the emptiness in his heart. Something told the motel clerk this was fate—Dean coming into his life, especially at this time, was meant to be.

But it didn't mean Robbie still didn't think about his brother's death. It haunted him everywhere he went, but it was even worse two times of the year—James birthday and the anniversary of his death. He didn't like how it stuck with him and he could do nothing but let the events play over and over in his mind.

_It was a brisk and chilly November day but it was fifteen year old Robbie Mallette's favorite time of the year. The air was fresh and as he inhaled in the scent of the wilderness around him, he felt free, like there was nothing holding him back. It was deer season and he and his older brother, James, were making their annual weekend hunting trip. Robbie always looked forward to these trips. They allowed Robbie time for just him and James—no parents, no school, no friends. _

_"Hey, you coming or what?" _

_Robbie looked up to see James was staring at him, an amused smile on his face. The younger teen nodded eagerly, and after hiking his rifle up farther on his shoulder, he hurried to catch up to the well-built, brown haired man. _

_The seventeen year old ruffled his brother's hair. "Dude, I did not bring you out here to daydream. Give that imagination a rest for one day." _

_"Sorry, James," he said, sheepishly. _

_"Ah, it's okay, little brother. I wouldn't have you any other way." _

_Robbie smiled and they continued their trek further into the woods. _

_"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," James said after several minutes of silence. _

_Robbie felt a small alarm go off in his head. His brother rarely ever started a sentence like that and when he did, it usually meant the news wasn't going to be too good. But Robbie shrugged it off and said, "What is it?" _

_James took a deep breath. "I got a letter in this week and I got accepted to play football at the University of Tennessee on a full scholarship." _

_The alarm bells grew louder as Robbie realized what that meant. "Wait, does that mean you're moving?" _

_"It's a great opportunity, runt. This is something I've been working hard for and Coach thinks I can go really far." _

_Robbie knew his brother was a great football player—he'd been his personal cheering section for the last few years. James never missed a game and was named Most Valuable Player every year since he got into high school. Robbie was so proud of James and practically worshipped the ground the older teen tread. He wanted James to go far in life, he was happy James would have this opportunity. But the selfish part of him, the part of him that was screaming in his head was telling him that his brother was going to be out of his life. He just couldn't handle that. _

_"But James, that means you're going to be away from me. Why can't you go to school around home?" _

_"I don't want to stay in Travers forever, runt. I need to get out there and see what else the world has to offer." James looked over at his sulking brother. "You can understand that, right?" _

_Robbie kicked at a pine cone on the ground. "I guess so." _

_James reached over and wrapped an arm around Robbie's shoulders. "Everything's going to be okay, Robbie. It will all work out…you'll see." _

_Robbie wanted to believe his brother, he really did. But how could he? It was easy for James to say that, but he didn't know what could happen. James never thought of things like that. What if his brother went to Tennessee and found that he loved it there more than he did in Arkansas? What if James went over there and never came back? How was Robbie supposed to go on without his brother? How could James expect him to be okay with this? This wasn't something you just spring on a person and expect them to accept. _

_Ever since Robbie was born, his brother had been by his side. His mother told him how protective James was, going so far as to sleep beside his crib every single night when he was a baby. Robbie was born a few weeks too early and as a result, he'd been smaller than most kids his age. Robbie let James call him "runt" but it was a special nickname reserved only for his brother. James never let one single person pick on him, he never let anyone take advantage of Robbie. The younger boy never had to worry about a thing as long as James was beside him. _

_James helped him with his homework every night even though he had some of his own to do. He never hesitated to do anything Robbie asked of him and did it with a smile on his face every single time. Robbie trusted his life with his older brother and no one else. James was the only one who could give him what he truly needed, show him the ways of the world. But how was he going to do that now? Robbie was so used to seeing James every morning before he went to school and every afternoon when he returned. But he wouldn't have that now—he wouldn't have his constant companion, his protector any longer. _

_It was almost as if he was dying…as if he was falling into a deep hole with no hopes of getting out. _

_James stopped walking and held up a hand, telling Robbie to be quiet. He looked back at the younger boy and pointed ahead of him. Looking into the distance, Robbie could see a white-tailed buck that appeared to be an eight-point. _

_"Looks like it's our lucky day, runt." James smiled. _

_Robbie nodded as James brought his gun up and aimed at the deer. Silence surrounded the brothers but it was broken as a gunshot reverberated through the forest. As birds flew away in fright, Robbie saw the majestic buck fall to the ground. _

_"Got him!" James brought down his gun and began to make his way towards the fallen animal. "Come on, dude!" _

_Robbie hurried to catch up to his brother but tripped on a protruding root. As he fell to the ground, he lost his grip on his rifle and another gunshot rang out through the forest. Rising on his elbows, Robbie looked all around for his brother, but didn't see him anywhere. _

_"James?" he called out, but there was no answer. _

_A cold feeling made its way down his spine as Robbie rose to his feet. Where in the world could James be? If he was playing around with him, Robbie was going to let his brother have a piece of his mind. The gunshot freaked the kid out; he knew it came from his gun, but he was praying it was a wild shot that went up into the air. But the fact James wasn't answering scared the hell out of him. _

_"JAMES!" Robbie's voice echoed all around him, making him feel alone. _

_Walking up a few feet, he could make out a mound lying on the ground. _Oh, God, no…please, please no! _Robbie ran the rest of the way and his heart caught in his throat as he saw the mound was, in fact, his brother. _

_"James! Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" Robbie dropped down to the ground next to the injured man. James was lying on his stomach and the teen saw blood saturated his brother's clothing. Running his hand along James' back, Robbie saw a clear bullet hole right in the middle. Gingerly, he turned James over and into his lap. _

_"Robbie…what the…hell…happened?" he asked, his voice slurring.. _

_"I'm sorry, James. I-I didn't mean for it to ha-happen. I tr-tripped and my-my gun fell. It-it must have gone o-off." _

_"Is this…'cause I said I…was goin' to c-college?" James joked, weakly. He coughed and blood splattered onto Robbie's face, but the kid didn't wipe it off. _

_He reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone. "Just hang on, okay? I'm going to call for help! But you have to hold on for me, okay, James?" _

_James nodded and coughed again, but this time it was harder for him to catch his breath. Robbie dialed 911 and waited for his call to go through. _What the hell have I done?How could this have happened?

_"Answer the phone, dammit!" But Robbie's request fell on deaf ears as the phone beeped in his ear, indicating the call had been dropped. He pulled the phone away and saw there was no longer a signal. "No, come on! Don't do this to me!" _

_"Robbie…" _

_Robbie turned back to his brother at his whispered name. James was incredibly pale now and blood was pooling all around him. "James, are you still with me?" _

_James weakly held up a hand and Robbie grasped it firmly in his. "It's going to be okay, James. You'll see…I'm gonna get you out of here." _

_"You…you did…what…you could." _

_"No, James! I'm so sorry, okay? I'm so sorry this happened. I didn't mean to." Robbie could feel the tears falling steadily down his cheeks, but he didn't care. He didn't care about looking weak in front of his brother. _

_"It's okay…runt…I'm not…angry at…you." He began to close his eyes. _

_"No, James! Don't you dare close your eyes, you hear me? Don't you give up on me!" Robbie sobbed. "I need you! I need my big brother!" _

_"Sshh…it's…okay. It'll be okay…" _

_"No!" _

_James closed his eyes and when Robbie shook him again, they remained closed. _

_"NOOOOOOOO!" _

Robbie wiped away a single tear as he looked at James' picture. This time it would be different. Robbie wouldn't make a stupid mistake with Dean like he did with James. He would show Dean what a great little brother he could be. He couldn't let Dean down like he did with James. He'd been paying for his mistake for the past eight years, but not anymore.

Things were going to be different now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam was a little more than irritated. It was bad enough Dean asked Robbie for help earlier this morning, but now the motel clerk had to tag along with them while they checked out the Eclipse. This was completely unlike Dean because his brother never liked to have anyone come with them on any of their hunts, so why was now any different?

They were waiting in their motel room for Robbie to show up and Sam wasn't hiding his disdain for Dean's idea very well. "So, tell me again why you invited the clerk along with us?"

Dean sighed. "Because, Sammy, I thought maybe he could help us."

Sam snorted. "You've never wanted help before. Why is now any different?"

Dean looked up from the supply bag he'd been packing. "I didn't see where it would hurt if he tagged along. He looked kind of lonely, so I figured why not. He won't get in our way." He rolled his eyes as Sam narrowed his. "What?"

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with Dean?"

"Oh, God…"

"No, seriously, man. You've never wanted anyone to come with us on a hunt before. What makes this clerk so special?"

"I figured I would do something nice for the guy. Is that really such a bad thing?" Dean shoved his Bowie knife into the bag.

"It's just…weird, is all. It's not like you."

"Who knows? Maybe I'm under some kind of spell or something." At Sam's shocked expression, Dean added, "It was a joke, Sam."

"That's not funny, Dean, given with what we do."

Dean zipped up the bag and turned to look at his brother. "This isn't really a big deal. You have nothing to worry about, Sammy."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah…okay."

There was a knock on the door and Dean walked over to open it. "Come on in, Robbie."

Robbie walked into the room and glanced briefly over at Sam. "Hi."

Sam frowned at the tone of Robbie's voice. It sounded as if the clerk was being forced to speak to him, like someone was twisting his arm. _What in the world have I done to piss him off? _"Hey, Robbie."

Dean grabbed the supply bag off his bed and as he headed towards the door, he nudged Sam on the arm. "Let's hit the road."

Sam didn't miss the glare Robbie shot him as he followed Dean out the door. As Sam pulled the door closed, he could feel a chill running down his spine.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean didn't understand what Sam's problem was. He was acting as if Robbie was intruding on their life, but Dean supposed if the roles were reversed, he'd be thinking the same thing. Dean didn't know what it was about Robbie that called out to him, but something was there. Maybe it was the fact he sensed Robbie was a loner; someone who didn't have many friends, if any at all.

The older Winchester felt the same way while he was in school. All throughout his middle and high school years, Dean felt like an outcast. That could have been attributed to his dad moving them around so much, but even if they stayed at a place for a period of time, Dean never could make friends. Though he would never admit it to Sam, Dean wanted to have friends. He was always so jealous of Sam when his younger brother came home with a new friend. The kid could make friends with a snake if he wanted to. It was a trait Dean never seemed able to pick up on his own.

But then again, it was for the best. Once you got attached to someone, you had to let them go. It was a sad aspect of the life of a hunter's son and he'd seen one way too many times of the hurt Sam went through when he had to leave friends behind. Dean never wanted to deal with that so it was better he kept himself distanced from his peers.

Maybe Robbie was the same way, a loner, but Dean didn't know. And it wasn't as if he and the motel clerk were all of a sudden going to become buddy-buddy, but maybe he could give the kid something to be excited about. Dean just wished Sam would let it go and not overreact so much. It's not like Dean was going to ignore Sam and focus all of his attention on Robbie.

Dean would never do that to his brother. Sam was his flesh and blood, his ying to his yang and it wasn't something you just tossed aside. Ever since picking Sam up at Stanford, Dean couldn't imagine being apart from his brother again. They had too much at stake right now and their journey was only just beginning.

"So, Robbie, did you grow up around here?" Dean asked. He figured it couldn't hurt to get to know the kid a little better, and maybe it would put Sam's mind at ease a bit.

He saw Robbie's head bob up and down in the rearview mirror. "Yep, born and raised."

"How long have you been working at the motel?"

"About two years."

"You like it?"

"Yeah. Brenda, the one who owns it, is really nice. She lets me set my own hours and I get the weekends off."

"Do you have any family around here?"

"My folks live here, but we don't talk much. We kinda had a falling out."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay—it was years ago."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Robbie didn't say anything for a few moments. "I had a brother," he said so softly Dean barely heard him.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

Sam looked sharply at his brother. "Dean." He looked apologetically at Robbie. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to, Robbie."

"No, it's okay." He met Dean's eyes in the mirror. "He died in an accident."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. There wasn't anything he really could say to make it better. The only thing he could do was offer a lame apology. "I'm sorry."

Robbie gave a sad smile. "Yeah…me too."

The rest of the drive was made in silence as the boys were afraid to touch any topic that might bring them back to Robbie's brother. They finally pulled up to the Eclipse ten minutes later and got out of the car. Dean walked to the trunk and pulled out their supply bag. He also grabbed two sawed-off shotguns and handed one over to Sam.

Robbie eyed the guns nervously. "So, what exactly are you guys looking for in here?" he asked as they walked towards the gate entrance.

"Evidence," Dean answered.

"But you're not police. Why would two reporters need to look for evidence if the police have already been here and gotten everything?"

"The gate's locked. I'm going to see if there's another way in," Sam interrupted.

Dean nodded and turned around to look back at the mousy young man. "We're not exactly looking for that kind of evidence."

Robbie frowned in confusion as he watched Sam walk away. "Then what kind of evidence are you looking for?"

"Honestly?"

Robbie nodded.

"Spirits…ghosts."

Robbie smiled. "You're kidding me, right?"

Dean shrugged and looked over to see Sam crouching on the ground a few yards away. "You find a way in?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, there's an opening down here we can get through."

The older hunter nodded his head at Robbie. "Let's go."

"Wait!" He hurried to catch up with Dean. "You two are out here for a freakin' ghost hunt?"

"Now, when you say it like that it sounds completely insane." Dean followed Sam through the opening and pulled out some flashlights from the duffel. He handed one to Sam and another to Robbie after he made it inside the gate. Dean then took the lead and directed them towards the front entrance of the abandoned hotel.

"I thought you were trying to find out what happened to that other reporter."

"That's exactly what we're doing," Sam said a little irritably.

"By looking for a ghost?"

"Yes!" Sam took off in front of Dean, giving his brother a scathing look on the way.

"Did I say something wrong?" Robbie asked, watching Sam's retreating figure.

"Nah…Sam just gets that way sometimes. Don't worry about it."

Robbie nodded and didn't say anything else as they made their way inside the Eclipse. Once inside, Dean set down the bag and pulled out the EMF reader and thermal scanner, handing the latter over to Sam. Sam, in return, passed the shotgun back to Dean. "Do you remember what floor Douglas was killed on?"

"The newspaper said it was on the third floor," Sam answered as he powered up the scanner.

"Let's head up there, then." Dean flicked on the EMF and led the way up the staircase, making sure to keep Robbie in between him and Sam. He wasn't entirely convinced something wouldn't go wrong, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

It took a few minutes, but they finally reached the third floor landing. Shining his flashlight all around, Dean could make out a door that was barricaded with yellow crime scene tape. He grabbed the tape and pulled it down. He reached for the knob and wasn't shocked to find it was locked.

"You have your lock-pick?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah." Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out the slender black case. "Here you go." He tossed it to Dean.

Dean plucked it out of the air and bent down to get to work. Amazingly, the entire time Dean fumbled with the lock, Robbie remained quiet. "We're in," he said a minute later as he pushed the door open. He pulled out the EMF once more and cautiously led the way into the room. As soon as he did, the EMF lit up like a Christmas tree, the frequency chirping in the quiet room.

"I don't mean to ask any more questions, but what exactly is that thing?" Robbie asked, watching as Dean moved the meter back and forth.

"It's an EMF meter—or an electromagnetic frequency reader. It uses frequencies to detect the presence of spirits in a room."

"So those lights on the top…"

"Light up when there's a spirit around."

Robbie swallowed hard. "So, that means…"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, we've definitely got something in here." He looked over at Sam. "Are you getting anything?"

Sam nodded, but his eyes remained on the small screen in front of him. "I'm getting a couple of—" he never got to finish as he was suddenly flung across the room by an invisible force.

"Sam!"

Dean shoved Robbie behind him. "Stay behind me!" He pulled out his shotgun and took aim as the ghost of Eli Nelson appeared in front of them. Dean didn't hesitate as he pulled the trigger and the spirit dissipated into the air. He waited for a moment making sure it was gone before he rushed over to Sam who was just starting to pull himself up from the ground.

Dean saw a small trickle of blood oozing down from a cut above Sam's left eye. "You okay, little brother?" he asked, gingerly touching the cut.

Sam hissed and nodded shakily. "Where is he?" he asked as his brother helped him up the rest of the way.

Dean never got to answer the question as Robbie's startled yelp filled the air. Looking over his shoulder, Dean saw Eli was holding a scalpel in his right hand as he slowly backed the terrified clerk into a corner. Dean raised the shotgun up once again. "Robbie, get down!"

Robbie didn't hesitate as he did exactly what he was told. Dean shot the spirit again and rushed over to Robbie, jerking him roughly to his feet. He pushed him towards the door where Sam was waiting. "Go, get out of here now!"

The three men made quick work as they hustled down the stairs and out of the Eclipse. As soon as they got to the Impala, Dean popped the trunk and threw in their gear as Sam and Robbie ducked inside the car.

"I thought you said this was supposed to be a simple salt and burn." Sam glared at his brother.

"Ah, Sammy…you know better than to listen to me!" As he pulled away from the hotel, Dean glanced back in his mirror at Robbie, who was wearing a wide-eyed expression. "You okay back there, Robbie?"

"That was a…that was a—"

"Ghost," the brothers answered in unison.

Robbie nodded numbly. "You saved my life."

Dean shrugged sheepishly. "All in a day's work." He looked over to see Sam was still glaring at him. "What's eating your ass now?"

"Still think it was a good idea to bring him along?"

Dean didn't answer as he let out a deep breath. He knew exactly what Sam meant by those words: _I told you so._


	5. Chapter 5

**Yep, it's another update! I've been having a crappy day and I needed something to cheer me up. The way to do that is to make you guys happy with a new chapter! Thanks for all of the reviews everyone! They make me so happy!**

**Many thanks to my two awesome betas...Bayre and Sojourner!**

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

_I saw a ghost! I saw a friggin' ghost!_

It was the only thought that was running through Robbie's mind as Dean dropped him off at his apartment. There wasn't supposed to be such a thing as ghosts and if he hadn't seen one himself, Robbie never would have believed it. But he'd seen it with his own eyes. He'd seen a ghost try to stab him and it was very, very real.

While it freaked him out more than anything ever had in his life, at the same time it exhilarated him. This was the most exciting thing he'd done in his life and he had only one person to thank for that—Dean. Dean showed him how exciting life could be and all it took was some psycho ghost. Even when James was living, Robbie didn't think he'd ever had something so exciting happen to him before.

James always liked to play things safe. Sure, they went hunting, hiking, and boating all the time, but looking back, those activities were safe. At least until James was killed. But _this_ was different with Dean. Robbie could tell Dean liked to live on the edge; he liked to toe the line. And if this was something he did all the time, then it was something Robbie knew he could get used to.

Robbie had a new way of looking at Dean now—Dean was a superhero. An honest-to-goodness, real live superhero. Dean saved him from the ghost, not caring if something would happen to himself in the process. Is this what Sam got to see everyday? Is this what he got to experience all the time? If so, then he was the luckiest man in the world. And the sad thing was Sam didn't seem to realize this. He didn't seem to appreciate how lucky he truly was.

He could be exactly what Dean wanted him to be. He could go on these ghost hunts and he could make the older man proud of him. He'd always been good at making James proud of him and he knew he could do the same with Dean. In no time at all, Dean wouldn't even remember Sam.

Robbie knew he would have to work at it though. He saw the way Dean brushed Sam's arm as they left for the Eclipse. It wasn't an aggressive brush—it was a tender, brotherly brush. It was the way James would brush against him when he was kidding around. It was a way of showing love without actually having to say the words. He also saw the way Dean helped his brother off the floor after the ghost attacked him. He'd been gentle, careful not to hurt the younger man any more than he was. He'd looked Sam over for cuts, had fussed over the one above Sam's brow. Dean was a _good _older brother.

Tonight hadn't been anything close to a waste . He'd figured out a perfect way to get Sam out of the way. He'd found a place where he could keep Sam out of sight for a while. He still wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do to the younger brother, but that could be worked out at a later time. He wasn't even sure if he was going to kill him—it was details and he hadn't had the time to work them out yet. He just knew what he needed to do now.

He'd heard the brothers mention they were going up to One Shots before they dropped him off. He wasn't invited along, of course, but it was a public place and if he wanted to go, then he could. Grabbing up the keys to his Corsica he figured it wouldn't hurt to crash the party. Hell, it might even be fun…

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam really needed to learn to say no to Dean when he asked if he wanted to go to the bar. It was the same way every single time they went—Dean would have a few beers, hit on any busty woman he set eyes on, and then challenge the locals to a game of pool, while feigning like he had no idea how to play. After he wiped the floor with every gullible sucker, he'd come back to the table a wad of cash in his hand.

And what did Sam do during this entire time? Research—oh, and come up with ways it could possibly get any worse for him. It was amazing how every single classic Southern rock song playing through the speakers could beat in perfect succession with the pounding in his head. And they were lucky tonight, or so the bartender told him. There was a live band playing and for some reason (which Sam gathered was someone's form of a sick joke), the band was never told they sucked.

Lucky? Well, yes—but it was the Winchester's form of luck, meaning it was shitty, at best.

The one great thing about the bar though, was the fact they were now away from Robbie. The more time the psychic spent with the motel clerk, the more uneasy he grew about him. Something was definitely off with the guy but for the life of him, Sam couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe there was nothing wrong with Robbie like Dean was saying. Maybe he was just one of those people who made Sam feel unnerved just by being in the same room with him. His creepy edge could be nothing more than Sam's own discomfort about having a non-hunter around, knowing what they did for a living.

Whatever it was, Sam was glad to be away from him. Very few things got to Sam; he'd learned long ago not to fear much. It was amazing, after all the ghosts, demons, and monsters he dealt with on a daily basis, he was freaked out by a mousy guy who probably couldn't hurt a fly. Ever since his time with the Benders, though, and dealing with Gordon Walker, Sam found it a little harder to trust his fellow man. After all, like Dean said before, people are crazy. Sam thought Dean was overreacting at first, but now he had to agree with his sibling.

Taking a sip of his lukewarm beer, Sam looked up to see Dean was chatting animatedly with a blonde. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before she agreed to whatever it was Dean was offering for the night. It amazed Sam how naïve women could be when it came to Dean. Couldn't they recognize a line when they heard one? Were they that desperate for companionship it didn't bother them Dean wouldn't remember their names the next morning?

Sam wasn't going to spend all night trying to figure out the puzzle that was his brother. He'd leave that one to the brains over at MIT, though he didn't have much faith in them either. Instead, he turned back to his laptop which was opened to a website devoted to Eli Nelson. He wasn't learning any more about the spirit than he already knew. Now, he was trying to search for where cracked faux doctor was buried, but he wasn't having much luck so far.

Closing out of that window, he pulled up the Google search page as the band started playing Journey's _Don't Stop Believing_.

_Just a small-town girl_

_Living in a lonely world_

_Took a midnight train going anywhere_

_Just a small-town boy_

_Born and raised in South Detroit_

_Took a midnight train going anywhere…_

Sam typed in ELI NELSON into the query bar and soon hundreds of sites pulled up, pertaining not only to Eli, but to any other Nelson that was mentioned. _So much for having a narrowed search result…_It amazed Sam with the technology of the Internet how it was still hard to find exactly what you wanted. It was almost like looking through a book—you still had to browse through all the junk to get what you wanted.

Clicking on the first site, Sam was surprised to see exactly what he was looking for. According to the webpage, Eli Nelson was buried at the _Peaceful Gardens Cemetery_. Sam grabbed his small notebook from his messenger bag and jotted down the address.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam looked up, startled, to see Robbie standing next to the table, a beer in his right hand. "Robbie…hey..."

"You mind if I sit down?"

Sam shut his laptop and shoved it back into his bag. He nodded towards one of the empty chairs.

Robbie smiled and took a seat. "So, what were you working on?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing really. Just checking up on some email," he lied. He averted his eyes as he saw Robbie staring at him. He tried to hide the shiver going down his spine, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded or not. He really didn't like the way Robbie was looking at him; it was almost as if he were looking _through_ him and it made Sam feel somewhat violated.

"Where's your brother at?"

"He's around here somewhere." _But I wish he'd get back over this way._ Straining his neck, Sam saw his brother was still at the bar talking with the same girl. Dean glanced briefly his way and Sam waved him over. Dean held up a finger to tell him to hold on and Sam just glared.

"So, Robbie…are you okay? I mean, you had to be pretty freaked out by what happened earlier."

Robbie nodded. "I was so freaked, but I think I'm okay now."

"That's good." Sam took a sip of his beer and cringed as the warm amber liquid went down his throat. "We never meant for you to be caught in the crossfire back there."

"It's okay. Dean was there to help me out." Robbie looked up at him, his expression eager. "Does he always do stuff like that?"

Sam frowned. "Like what?"

"Saving you…helping you out when you need it."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"That's so awesome." Robbie's brown eyes became intense. "You should realize how lucky you are to have him for a brother."

Sam swallowed hard. This was definitely getting up there on the creepy scale. Thankfully, Sam didn't have to say anything else as Dean sauntered up to the table, a huge smile on his face. "Hey!" Sam didn't mean to sound so grateful, but at that point he couldn't really help it.

Dean frowned at him in confusion. "Hey." He turned to Robbie. "When did you get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

"I thought you'd already be heading for the hills by now." Dean took a seat between the two. "You're not tired of us yet?"

"Are you kidding? That was awesome!"

Dean chuckled. "Looks like we've got a fan here, Sammy."

"Yeah…" Sam stood up and grabbed his bag. "Listen, I'm gonna head back to the motel. There's still some stuff I want to work on." Dean reached into his pocket and fished out the keys to the Impala, but Sam held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm gonna walk back."

Dean fixed Sam with a hard stare. "Take the damn car, Sammy."

"What about you?"

Dean forced the keys into Sam's hand. "What about me? I'm a big boy—I can walk back."

"I can drive you back to the motel," Robbie offered. "I have to relieve Brenda in a couple of hours anyway."

Dean grinned. "See, there you go. Problem solved, Sammy."

"I can come back and pick you up, Dean."

"Sam, Robbie can take me back to the motel. Don't wait up for me, okay?"

Sam wanted to argue but the look Dean was shooting him said there was no more room for argument. Putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, Sam pushed through the crowd and made his ways towards the Impala. Sliding into the car, he let out a big sigh of relief, grateful to finally be away from Robbie.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Gary, what are we doing here?" Melissa Jones couldn't hide the fear in her voice as her boyfriend of six months, Gary, pulled up to the abandoned Eclipse hotel. They were supposed to be going to her cousin's birthday party, not stopping at some freaky hotel where someone had just died.

Gary looked over at Melissa, an easy-going smile on his face. "Oh, come on, Mel…I just want to check the place out. Where's your sense of adventure?"

Melissa shot him a cool look. "It must be where you left your common sense." She looked out the windshield, the hotel looking ominous in the pale moonlight. "We shouldn't be here, Gary."

"Why not?"

"Are you kidding me?" Melissa screeched. "Some guy was just murdered here. What if that psycho is still in there?"

Gary shook his head. "He's not."

"And you know this, how?"

"Because he wouldn't be stupid enough to stick around, especially when the cops are still nosing about the place."

"What, are you on personal terms with the guy? Did he tell you he wouldn't be here tonight, to just come on in?"

Gary ignored Melissa as he reached over and grabbed a flashlight out of the glove compartment He flicked it on, making sure it worked, and glanced at her. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"Gary, we're supposed to be at Allison's birthday party. I told her I would be there."

"And we will be, just as soon as we get finished here."

"Gary, this is so stupid. Why do you have to go in there? Are you trying to prove something?"

The young man rolled his eyes. "I'm not trying to prove anything, Mel. I just want to go take a look around." He pushed open the door. "Now, are you coming?"

"No, I'm not." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out ahead.

"Suit yourself." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Whatever." She watched as Gary got out of the car and walked to the gate. He stopped in front of it and then deftly lifted himself up and over the chain length fence, then disappeared from view.

Melissa sat there in the eerie silence, eyes darting all around. She didn't want to say she was one who could easily be spooked, but sitting there by herself in the car was starting to get to her. There should have at least been the occasional hoot of an owl or a car passing on the highway, but there was nothing. _It's okay…Gary will be back in a minute…there's nothing to be freaked out about…_

A sudden thump against the car convinced her otherwise. She yanked the keys from the ignition and sprinted from the car, not even pausing to glance behind her. She found a hole in the fence, dove through it, and sprinted towards the hotel, the wan moonlight guiding her.

"Gary!" She found him walking around the lobby.

"Hey, I thought you weren't coming in."

Melissa paused to catch her breath. "I thought you could use some company."

Gary smiled. "You got scared, didn't you?"

"What?" Melissa shook her head. "No, I didn't."

"Whatever you say, Mel."

Melissa slapped him on the arm. "I'm not going to fight you about this, Gary. Can we just get this over with?"

"Follow me."

Gary led the way to the staircase while Melissa clung to his arm. They slowly climbed up the rickety stairs, their footsteps echoing all around the small space. Gary came to a stop in front of the door for the third floor landing and paused to look at her. "Are you ready?"

Melissa pushed him. "Oh God, Gary, will you just go?"

"I'm just making sure." He softly pushed the door open, the creaking of the hinges piercing the silence of the building. Easing out into the hallway, he stepped aside so Melissa could walk in front of him. "It's down here."

"What is?" Melissa whispered.

"The room where that reporter was killed."

"This is what we came here for? So you could see where some guy was murdered?"

"You're telling me you're not curious?"

"No!"

"Not even a little bit?"

"No!" Melissa practically screeched. "I swear to God, Gary, we are so going to be over if we don't leave right now!"

Gary was about to say something when a loud thump sounded from somewhere, causing the both of them to jump. "Did you hear that?" Gary whispered.

Melissa nodded shakily as a shiver went down her spine. This is not how they were supposed to be spending their night. They were supposed to be partying with their friends, not playing hide and seek with some psycho. "I told you he was still in here, Gary."

"It was probably just a rat, Mel."

A louder thump sounded, this time even closer. "Does that sound like a rat to you?"

Gary shook his head as he slowly backed towards the door, dragging Melissa with him. "I think you're right. We should get out of here."

Melissa nodded and stood behind Gary as he walked back towards the door. He reached out for the knob and barely had the door open before he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. He looked down to see a scalpel sticking out, blood oozing from the wound. He stumbled back into Melissa, causing the both of them to fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

"Gary, what's wrong?"

Gary's face scrunched up in pain. "Get out of here, Mel."

"What? Gary, what are you—" She gasped as she saw Gary's wound. "Oh my God, Gary! Are you okay?"

There was a sudden cold breeze and the two teens looked up to see a man in a white suit smiling down at them.

"Melissa, get out of here now!"

"No, Gary! I can't leave you!"

"Dammit, Melissa!"

"Don't worry…I'm going to take good care of you both." The man took a slow step towards them.

_Oh God, he's going to kill us! I told Gary this wasn't a good idea! Why couldn't he listen to me?_ Melissa untangled herself from Gary and began desperately scooting back. She had to get out of there. She had to get to a phone and get help for Gary. _Why in the world did I leave my phone at home?_

"What do you want from us?" Melissa demanded as the man forgot about Gary and pursued her, a malicious smile on his face.

"There's no reason to be afraid. You'll barely feel a thing."

"Stay away…from her…" Gary managed weakly.

"Please, just let us go! We won't say anything, I promise!" Melissa sobbed.

The man only shook his head, closing the gap between them, a scalpel glinting forebodingly in the dim light.

"Please…don't do this!"

Melissa's terrified scream reverberated through the vacant hotel, piercing the tranquil night air.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I think I need to clear something up since it's been brought to my attention a couple of times. Some are saying that the Dean's behavior around Robbie is a little "off." The only way I can really explain it is Dean sees Robbie as being a sort of "loner" and is identifying with him. For the sake of this story, and since we really don't know how Dean was in school, I'm also labeling Dean as a loner. The way I see it, he didn't really have many friends in high school, if any at all, because he knew he would have to leave them when John got a new hunt. I hope this helps a little bit… **

**I also need to give long overdue credit to Phoenix (Phx), for such an awesome prompt. She presented this idea on the LimpSam boards, and I have only filled in the blanks. Phoenix, I am so sorry for not giving you credit in the very first chapter. I was so excited when I started on this, it's amazing I even remembered to breathe. So, again, thank you so much, Phoenix! **

**Thanks everyone for the awesome reviews…you have made this into such an exciting piece of work for me and I always look forward to writing the next chapter! **

**Big, huge, mondo thanks to my two awesome betas…Bayre and Sojourner! You guys rock!!! **

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Sam just couldn't figure his brother out. What had gotten into Dean to get him to put his trust into a complete stranger? Especially in a stranger Sam couldn't shake a bad feeling about. This was so unlike Dean and it almost made the young psychic think Dean may possibly be possessed. It was getting to be so bad, Sam was tempted to say "_Christo_" just to see if Dean would flinch.

He didn't like leaving Dean alone at the bar with Robbie, but he knew there was no way he could talk the stubborn man out of it once he set his mind to something. It was like talking to a tree stump, only he'd get more out of the stump than he would Dean. He wanted Dean to open his eyes to what was in front of him and quit relating to the motel clerk. They weren't the same. Dean was a life force all of his own and there was no way he could compare to anyone else.

Sam slowed down as he approached the motel but thought better of it. He really didn't want to go there right now. He wanted to drive around and let his mind wander for a while. Driving had always been somewhat therapeutic to him and it helped alleviate some of the stress he carried around. He knew it was the same for Dean as well since Dean never really dealt with his stress. It was boring for Sam to sit in the passenger seat day in and day out while Dean navigated the roads. So when Sam got one of these moments he relished it.

The young hunter really had no idea where he was going until he found himself driving up the long tree-lined driveway of the Eclipse Hotel. He was surprised to see a dark colored Honda Civic sitting in front of the gate. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to come here in the middle of the night, especially after the murder that had happened here. Bringing the Impala to a stop, he sat there staring ahead at the once magnificent structure.

He imagined _back in the day_ it would have been a wonderful place to stay, to get away from it all. But now it looked foreboding and ominous in the pale moonlight. There were secrets hiding in that building now and from what happened earlier, Sam knew Eli Nelson was going to do anything to make sure those secrets stayed there.

Glancing over at the Civic once again, Sam couldn't stop the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Grabbing a flashlight from the glove compartment, he got out of the Impala and slowly approached the car. Shining the light into the windows, he frowned as he saw a purse sitting in the passenger seat. There was no way someone would leave their car here along with their personal belongings.

Sam looked up at the hotel, then back to the car as the uneasy feeling grew ten fold, creating a cold, sick knot in his gut. Part of him was telling him to turn away and drive back to the motel, but the other side of him, the side that didn't know when to leave well enough alone, told him he needed to see if there was someone in the Eclipse. It was too dangerous to be exploring the hotel this late at night and Sam couldn't live with himself if there happened to be someone in trouble and he could have helped.

He knew Dean would be pissed at him for going in there by himself, but he had to put those feelings aside right now. Besides, Dean was too busy hanging with Robbie right now, so what did it matter what Sam did?

Going back over to the Impala, he unlocked the trunk and pulled out one of the shotguns along with extra rounds of rock salt. Stuffing those into his pocket, he closed the trunk and went back around to the driver's side. He plucked his cell phone from the passenger seat and put it into his jeans pocket. He ducked through the hole in the gate once more and cautiously entered the old establishment.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" Sam's voice bounced all around him, but only silence was the response to his question.

Not really knowing where he should start his search, he went in the direction of the stairs. He climbed up them slowly, each step creaking as he applied pressure. All his senses were on high alert, making him shiver as his core. He didn't mind haunted places so much, but the bigger places got to him a bit. There were just too many places something could hide and Sam generally liked to know what was on the other side of every door. He liked to be able to account for every corner and turn. He was never one for surprises, even when he was younger. It was better to know what was to come than to be caught with your pants around your ankles.

As he came out the third floor doorway, a familiar smell hit his nose and his stomach recoiled as he caught the coppery scent in the air. It was blood and from the way it permeated the air, it was fresh. Holding the gun in front of him, Sam stepped into the hallway shining his light all around. He didn't have to look too far before he saw what was causing the smell.

There in the middle of the hallway was a young male, a large pool of blood from a stab wound in his midsection surrounding him. Sam knew he was too late for the boy, but he leaned beside him anyway and brought his hand up to his neck, feeling for a pulse. He wasn't surprised when he didn't find one.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he stood up and shined his flashlight once again. The dead guy didn't explain the purse in the car and Sam had a feeling he would find another victim in here. A few feet away, he got his answer as he saw a girl lying in a pool of blood. He slowly approached her and had to put a hand over his mouth to stop the wave of nausea washing over him. She was blankly staring up at the ceiling, her throat practically torn out, arteries and ligaments hanging out like limp noodles.

"Oh, God…"

There was nothing he could do for them now. He needed to get out now before he met the same fate as them. He knew Dean would never forgive him if he got himself killed by some loony. He needed to call the police and then he and Dean needed to figure something out before this guy could kill anymore.

Turning to go, Sam was suddenly assaulted by a blast of cold air. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening, but before he could react he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his left arm. Looking down, he saw his jacket and shirt was slashed and a nasty cut was beginning to ooze blood. Stepping back as the form of Eli Nelson materialized in front of him, Sam raised the gun and fired. The spirit disappeared and Sam took off, not waiting to see if he was going to come back.

His arm was beginning to feel numb and Sam knew the spirit hit deep. But he couldn't worry about that right now—he had to get out of there and get back to Dean.

_Oh, yeah…Dean is definitely going to kill me now…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean couldn't help the pang of guilt as he watched Sam walk out of the bar. Dean could see the hurt on his baby brother's face as he opted to take a ride back to the motel with Robbie. Sam was definitely freaked out about the kid and for the life of him, Dean couldn't understand why. Robbie didn't seem to be such a bad person; he was just lonely and wanted someone to hang out with. Was that really such a bad thing?

Shrugging it off, Dean drained the last of his beer and held up his hand to a passing waitress to indicate he wanted another. She nodded and held up a finger that said it would be just a minute. Dean sat back in his seat as the live band began its cover of Led Zeppelin's _Whole Lotta Love_. They really weren't that bad, but of course, Dean imagined any band would be pretty good if you had enough alcohol in your system.

The waitress dropped the beer off at the table and Dean smiled as he handed her a five dollar bill. The perky blonde blushed as she took the money. Then, returning Dean's smile, she hustled over to the next table.

"That's amazing," Robbie said admirably.

Dean turned back to look at him. "What is?"

"You—the way you made Rachel blush like that."

"You know her?"

Robbie smiled. "Everyone around here knows Rachel. She's not an easy one to get to, but you just smiled at her and she melted."

Dean shrugged as he took another swig of his beer. "You just got to know how to work a woman. Give her a small smile, show her you're not only in it for one thing, and you'll have her right where you want her."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Have you ever—"

Robbie shook his head bashfully. "No…I've never had a woman interested in me before. They always looked at me as their friend, their shoulder to cry on."

"That's not such a bad thing, you know."

"Yeah, you do that and then try to get a date for the prom."

Dean felt sorry for the guy as he watched Robbie put his head down, but not before he saw a trace of red flush the clerk's cheeks. Dean couldn't say he knew how the kid felt. He never had a problem in school getting a date, even when he wasn't really looking for one. That was more of Sam's forte—Sam was the sensitive one, the one the girls found a friend in. That wasn't saying his brother couldn't get a date if he wanted to. Sam just chose to focus on school more than the girls which was wrong on so many levels to Dean and he was sure he'd never understand Sam's priorities.

"Sam doesn't really like me too much, does he?"

_That was obvious from the get-go… _"Sam just has a lot of things on his mind right now. He's been dealing with a bunch of crap lately."

"I just get the feelin' he doesn't want me around."

"Like I said, I wouldn't pay much attention to it." Dean brought the mug of beer to his lips once again as a round of applause broke out around him.

The lead singer of the band was waving a hand, trying to get the crowd to settle down. "We're going to take a break right now. See you guys in ten!"

"So, you and Sam…are you guys close?"

"Yeah…I mean, we have our fights every now and then, but it's always just been me and Sammy."

"You don't have any parents?"

Dean shook his head sadly. "No…they both passed away."

Robbie once again grew embarrassed. "I'm sorry…I have a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

Dean waved him off. "No, it's okay. Don't worry about it." Robbie didn't say anything as he played with the label of his beer bottle. "So, uh, your brother…were you two close?"

Robbie nodded sadly. "Very close. James was my best friend. We used to do everything together. He would always watch out for me and make sure I was safe."

Dean nodded. "That sounds like me and Sammy." Robbie cringed at that, but Dean pretended not to notice. "How long has James been gone?"

"Eight years now."

"I can't imagine what that's like, to live without your brother." Dean shook his head. "I mean, if something ever happened to Sam, I don't know what I'd do."

Before Robbie could say anything to that, Dean's phone began to ring.

"Sorry," the hunter said as he hit the talk button. "Hello?"

"_Dean?" _Sam's breathless voice met his ears.

"Yeah, Sammy. What's wrong? You sound as if you were just caught watching porn or something." Dean chuckled. "You're not watching porn, are you, little brother?"

"_Dean, would you just shut up and listen to me?"_

"Fine, what's wrong?"

"_There's been another murder at the Eclipse…two actually."_

"What? How do you know this?"

"_I drove over there and found them."_

"What the hell are you doing going over there by yourself? Why didn't you tell me you were going over there?"

"_Because I didn't know I was going until I got there. Now, will you quit bitching at me?"_

"Were you hurt?"

"_Not really…"_

Dean really didn't have the patience to play around with his younger brother. "Sam…"

He heard Sam sigh. _"Eli attacked me."_

"How bad?"

"_Not bad."_

"How bad?" Dean's voice was a growl.

"_He cut my arm."_

"God _dammit_, Sam! Where are you right now?"

"_I'm on my way back to the motel."_

"Hurry your ass up. I'll meet you over there."

"_All right."_

Dean hung up the phone and took a final swig of his beer just as the band was coming back to the stage.

"What's going on?" Robbie asked.

"You think I can get that lift from you? I gotta get back to the motel. Sam needs me."

"Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

_Just as soon as I kick Sammy's ass…_

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Robbie could feel the rage building up inside him as he walked into the motel office for his shift. Why did Sam have to call and pull Dean away from him? Why did Dean have to drop everything and go back to Sam because he was stupid enough to get hurt? Why couldn't Dean just let Sam take care of himself.

But Robbie knew that answer. It was the same reason why James would never let Robbie take care of himself. Sam was the little brother and Dean would do anything to make sure he was okay and stayed safe. Sam had to be taken care of and it was Dean's job to do just that.

It still didn't make Robbie feel any better, though. He felt as if he and Dean were getting closer with each other. They were talking a lot, building a bond. It seemed just as they were getting there, Sam was calling or showing up and messing up things. Dean didn't even say anything to Robbie as he jumped out of the car and headed to his motel room. No "thank you" or "good-bye"—nothing.

Why couldn't Dean see Sam was just doing this to get his attention? Why couldn't he see Sam was jealous of the relationship they were forming? Sam was realizing he could be replaced and he was doing everything in his power to make sure Dean stayed away from Robbie. Well, Robbie couldn't have that anymore. He had to get Sam out of the way.

Tomorrow, a brand new chapter of Robbie's life would begin.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What the hell were you thinking, Sam?"

Sam looked over as Dean entered the room, his expression angry and scared all at once. _Oh, yeah…he's really, really pissed off._ "I'm sorry, Dean."

"You're sorry? Sam, do you realize you could have been killed tonight?" Dean threw the motel key onto the small table.

"I wasn't."

"But you could have been! You never go anywhere unless you have back-up."

"I'm not a child, Dean. I can take care of myself." Sam gingerly shrugged out of his jacket, wincing as he jarred his injured arm.

Dean nodded at Sam. "Oh, yeah, I can see that, Sammy. You always get yourself stabbed when you take care of yourself?"

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"I'll decide that. Sit down." Dean walked over to their supply bag and pulled out the first-aid kit. Standing beside Sam, he helped his brother out of his button-down shirt, and then sat on the bed next to him. "Tell me what happened."

Sam hissed in pain as Dean probed the cut. "I was driving around and for some reason, I went to the Eclipse. I wasn't even going to bother with it, but I saw a car there and got curious."

"You know what they say about curiosity, Sammy."

"Yeah, something about a cat."

"What did you find?" He reached into the kit and pulled out a small bottle of saline water and a couple of cotton balls. He soaked the cotton and gently began to clean the wound.

"I saw a purse in the car and figured whoever it was, went into the hotel. I went inside and checked it out, and that's when I found them."

Dean frowned. "This doesn't look so bad, but I still need to patch it up." He reached into the inside of his jacket and produced a small flask. "Here, drink some of this."

Sam took the silver container from his brother and took a generous swig, the liquid burning his throat as it went down. Dean reached into the kit once again, this time producing a box of steri strips and a small tube of skin glue. "You ready?"

Sam took another swig of the whiskey. "Just get it finished." He bit back a cry of pain as Dean pulled the wound together and applied a thin line of glue on the cut. Sam seriously considered going after the manufacturers of the product for failing to mention it stung like a bitch. It was almost as bad as someone putting a hot iron poker against his skin.

"So, what happened to them?" Dean was still holding the wound together, allowing the glue to have a chance to dry.

"The guy was stabbed and the girl had her throat slashed. There was blood all over the place, man."

"What about Eli?"

"He was there. I was about to leave and he showed up. Before I could do anything, he had that damn scalpel out and brought it across my arm. I shot him and just got the hell out of there."

"It's a good thing you did."

"Yeah." Sam bit back another cry as Dean began to apply steri strips over the cut. It didn't matter how many times he'd been patched up over the years, the pain was something he couldn't get used to, even with Dean's brand of anesthesia.

It took another couple of minutes, but finally Dean applied the last strip. After he was finished, he pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment. He rubbed a generous amount over the cut, and then finished it off with a gauze bandage. "It should be okay. We'll have to keep treating it so it doesn't get infected."

"Thanks."

Dean nodded as he packed away the kit.

"Dean, I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have gone in there alone."

"Well, it's too late to do anything about it now." He packed the kit into their supply bag and sighed. "So, what are we going to do about this?"

"Well, we can't go back to the Eclipse. The place has to be swarming with cops right now."

"Yeah, a couple passed us as Robbie drove back here." Dean fixed his brother with an intense gaze. "You called it in anonymously, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, and I used a pay phone."

"Good."

"As for what to do next, I found out where Eli was buried, so I figured we could do the salt and burn tonight. If we wait until tomorrow night to do it, then we risk someone else going in there and getting killed."

"I agree." Dean looked at his watch. "We'll wait for another hour or two, and then we'll head out."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews, everyone! I am just over the moon everyone is loving this story. I am having such a blast writing it and it is because of your enthusiasm for it! **

**The next update may be a little slow because I am going out to buy the Season Two DVD and I plan on locking myself in my room and not coming out until I am finished watching every episode again! Sorry…it's my I'm called obsessed and devoted! **

**Big thanks to my two fantastic betas…Bayre and Sojourner!!! **

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It wasn't hard for the Winchesters to find the _Peaceful Gardens Cemetery_, considering it was the only cemetery in Travers. With a town this small, they didn't feel the need to have more than one cemetery. If they needed more plots, they expanded. This was a good thing for the brothers, because they didn't have to drive all over to find the grave they were seeking.

After waiting around for a couple of hours, Dean finally deemed it safe for them to venture out and take care of Eli Nelson once and for all. They were worried about the presence of cops, but with the murders tonight it seemed a sure bet that a couple of men out in the cemetery in the middle of the night would be the least thing on their minds. Besides, the two hunters were doing the town a favor even if they didn't realize it.

Dean was still upset with Sam, though he pretended not to be. Sam never should have gone to the Eclipse by himself, even if it was on a whim. Something so much worse could have happened to his brother tonight and Dean wasn't sure if Sam realized it. Instead of a surface cut, Sam could have ended up with the same fate as the guy or the girl that he found. Sam needed to see he couldn't go off alone like that—he and Dean were a team, and as a team they stuck together, no matter what.

"Turn left up here." Sam pointed out the window and Dean steered the Impala onto Oak Drive.

After driving for a few yards, they came to a sprawling cemetery that went as far as the eye could see. A black wrought-iron fence with red brick columns every yard or so surrounded the perimeter and a large archway bearing the _Peaceful Gardens Cemetery_ name welcomed the late-night visitors.

"This has to be one of the better looking cemeteries we've been to," Dean commented as he shut off the car.

"It's sad that we're reduced to comparing cemeteries to each other."

Dean smiled. "It could be a whole hell of a lot worse, Sammy."

"How's that?"

Dean's smile fell. "Let me get back to you on that." He got out of the car and heard Sam do the same. Walking back to the trunk, he pulled out two small shovels, a canister of salt, lighter fluid, and a shotgun just to be safe, and shoved them into a small army green duffel. He had a pretty good idea that Eli wouldn't show up while they were doing the salt and burn but it was better to be safe. He wasn't about to risk Sam getting hurt again, if he could help it. He left the flashlights in the car since the cemetery was pretty well lit by security lights.

Closing the trunk, he handed one of the shovels over to Sam.

Sam was looking at Dean like he was crazy. "What are you giving that to me for?"

"Uh, to dig." _Sam could be so clueless sometimes…_

Sam looked at his bandaged arm. "Uh, I'm injured."

"Dude, don't hand me that crap." He pushed the shovel against Sam's chest and dug a sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. "You dug just fine after you broke your wrist a few months ago."

"So, you'd risk me hurting myself even more?"

Dean considered it for about a full second. "Yes." He began walking into the entrance of the cemetery.

"Seriously?"

"Come on, Sammy. That hole's not gonna dig itself."

"Ass," Sam muttered, but followed along anyway.

"Bitch." Dean smiled back at him, then focused on the paper once again. "You know, I'm starting to think the only reason you got hurt was so you could get out of grave digging."

Sam glared at the back of his brother's head. "Yes, Dean—I sought out a psychotic ghost and let him stab me just so I wouldn't have to dig tonight."

"Hey, it's not that far of a stretch. You've done a lot more to get out of digging before."

"Like what?"

Dean cut across Sam and continued to lead the way towards Eli's grave. He was glad Sam managed to find out exactly where it was located and print off a map before they left the motel. "Let's see…there was the one time when you were fifteen. You told Dad you were too sick to dig."

"Dude, I had food poisoning! I was practically puking my guts out."

"That's 'cause you're a pansy."

"Oh, what the hell ever."

"Well, it's true. Look at all the pansy ass crap you eat now."

"You mean vegetables?"

"Exactly. If you ask me, you're hitting all the wrong food groups."

"And which ones should I be eating?"

Dean held up a hand as he ticked them off. "Chocolate, fried foods, alcohol, and pie."

"I eat that and I'll be dead in a few years."

"Not necessarily. Look at me."

"I have looked at you, Dean, and it makes me worry. I think a scientist would be very interested in studying your eating habit and trying to find out why you haven't kicked the bucket yet."

Dean came to a stop in front of an old tombstone, which read _"Eli Nelson—b.1923, d. 1973"_. "You think they'll pay me for that?" he asked, the cocky grin firmly in place.

Sam shook his head, not bothering to give Dean an answer.

Dean threw the duffel down near the tombstone and stuck his shovel into the soft earth. Both brothers started into the task at hand, moving in synchronized rhythm and cadence without a word.

After twenty minutes or so of digging, Dean saw there was no way they were going to get finished quickly with the way Sam was digging. He was sluggish as best, and Dean knew his arm had to be killing him. They were just now breaking the half-way point and Dean wasn't sure how much longer he could listen to his brother's painful grunts as he pushed the dirt up and over. He never really meant to for Sam to be digging this much anyway, and felt a twinge of guilt for having him go at it this long.

"All right, you're finished."

"What?" Sam swiped a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat that was plastering his bangs to his head.

"Get out—I'll finish it." Dean dug the blade in once again.

"I can still help, Dean."

"I don't want you to help. You're hurting and don't you stand there and tell me you're not," he added when Sam opened his mouth to protest.

Sam shrugged and threw the small shovel a few feet ahead. Then, he pulled himself out of the grave and settled on the ground next to the tombstone. Happy that for once Sam was listening to him, Dean shrugged out of his jacket and continued to dig.

"Yahtzee," he said another twenty minutes later as the tip of his shovel came into contact with wood.

"You got it?" Sam asked.

"I've got it."

Sam stood up from the ground and peered down at his brother, who was prying the lid open. The perfectly preserved body of Eli Nelson lay there, as if he were in an eternal peaceful slumber.

"Help me out." Dean threw out his shovel and held up a hand to Sam.

Sam firmly grasped Dean's hand and pulled him out with very little effort. Dusting off his blue jeans, Dean walked over to the duffel and pulled out the canister of salt and small tin bottle of lighter fluid. He sprinkled a generous amount of rock salt all over the corpse and then doused it with the accelerant. Tossing the two containers aside, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box of matches.

Dean struck a small bundle of the matches and the faint light lit up his sweaty face. "Good riddance, Doc." He threw them into the grave and the body ignited in a rush. He and Sam stood there in silence, watching the flames hungrily consume Eli Nelson.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam groaned as he woke up the next morning. He and Dean didn't get back until well after one that morning, after making sure they'd filled the grave and cleaned away any evidence to show they'd been there. Of course, the mound of dirt on the old grave was going to be a dead giveaway, but as long as someone didn't see them, they were okay.

The young psychic had to admit his arm was hurting him a little bit, but not as bad as it could be. As soon as they got back to the motel, Dean insisted on looking at Sam's arm again. Sam tried to protest, of course, but as soon as Dean set his mind to something it was extremely hard to sway him. Sam sat still as Dean replaced the bandage and didn't argue as his brother placed two ibuprofen in his hand. He went to sleep instantly and had one of the best nights of sleep he'd had in a long time.

Looking over at Dean, Sam saw his older sibling was dead to the world, his light snoring the only noise in the room. Sam slipped off his covers, and scooting to the end of his bed, he pulled his laptop from its case. There was something he wanted to check, but he didn't want Dean breathing down his neck while he was doing it. He knew his brother meant well, but he was refusing to listen to Sam when the younger man was telling him something was "off" with Robbie. Dean wouldn't believe what Sam was saying, so Sam would just give him the proof he needed.

Sam was curious about the young motel clerk. He was too clingy and he always seemed to be around wherever they showed up. It could just be a pure coincidence, but then again, Sam didn't believe in coincidence. It was almost as if Robbie was keeping tabs on them, waiting to show up wherever they went next.

Signing onto the internet, Sam pulled up the Google search page and typed in ROBBIE MALLETTE. He didn't know what he was hoping to find, but maybe there was something out there that would explain Robbie's weird behavior. The Google search didn't turn up anything about Robbie, so Sam went to the _Travers Press _webpage. If there was any site that was going to tell him anything, it would be this one.

Typing in Robbie's name once again, Sam waited as the search through the database began. A few seconds later, a screen popped up with a few results. Clicking on the first one, Sam came across a story from about eight years back involving Robbie and his brother, James. Sam frowned as he read the article through and even felt a slight twinge of guilt.

_November 16, 1999_

_--A local teen was killed yesterday in an alleged hunting accident. Police say eighteen year old James Mallette was killed while hunting with his younger brother, fifteen year old Robbie Mallette. The younger brother's gun apparently discharged accidentally after he tripped and it fell from his hands. The brothers were not found until a few hours after the accident after their parents called in a missing persons report for the two teens. When the police arrived at the scene, they found Robbie clutching onto James, the eldest having expired long before any EMS were able to arrive at the scene. Police were unable to get a story from Robbie Mallette, as the young teen was in too much shock to give the police much to go on._

_Police are saying their investigation is still ongoing, but are confident no charges will be brought against Robbie Mallette. _

Sam stopped reading the article as it went into James' personal life, saying what a great loss to the community his death was. Going back, he clicked on the next article which said after a thorough investigation, no charges were going to be brought up against Robbie. Though Sam didn't want to admit it, he felt sorry for Robbie. He could only imagine how hard it would be on him to know he killed his own brother and then live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

Sam didn't know how he would be able to live if he knew he'd done that to Dean. Sam couldn't imagine the pain and turmoil Robbie must be going through, even though it was eight years ago. The years would do nothing to dull the pain; it would always be something he would carry with him until the day he died.

While James' death may explain some of Robbie's odd behavior, it did nothing to alleviate Sam's worry and slight fear of the mousy clerk. Sam saved the articles onto his bookmarks –he knew it probably wouldn't do anything to convince Dean of his worries, but at least he would have them now.

Sam was still creeped out by Robbie, nothing would shake that. The good thing about the salt and burn last night was the fact they would be hundreds of miles away from Robbie by nightfall. Dean wasn't about to sit around if they didn't have to. He liked to be in constant motion and for once, Sam would agree with Dean about getting out of Travers.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Sam looked up startled, to see Dean squinting at him. "I was checking up on a couple of things."

Dean let out a big yawn. "Like what?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, considering how he should answer Dean. He could go ahead and tell his brother what he was really doing, see if Dean would listen to his concerns this time or lie to him. Sam couldn't truly remember the last time he lied to Dean, though, and he really didn't want to start right now. Once you told a lie, it was hard to stop doing it. Sam knew that personally from his time with Jessica—he never told her the truth about his past and his family, and because of that, no matter who told him differently, he knew it was the reason she died.

"Do you know how Robbie's brother died?"

"Aw, Sammy. Do we have to talk about this right now?"

"You wanted to know what I was looking up, so I'm telling you." Sam fixed him with an intense gaze. "Did Robbie tell you how his brother died?"

Dean shrugged as he sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over so he could face Sam. "He said it was an accident."

"I guess that's partly true."

"What do you mean?"

"Robbie caused his brother's death, even though it was an accident. He and James were hunting and Robbie's gun discharged after he dropped it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "That explains why he's so distant—he still feels responsible for it."

"I guess you can't really blame him for that." Sam sighed. "But, Dean, I still don't think it explains the weird vibes I'm getting from him."

"Sam, you're just letting him get to you, but I'm telling you there's no way Robbie could hurt a fly. The kid just doesn't have it in him."

"So, you're telling me this is all in my imagination?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, you've been really stressed lately. I mean, you found out what the yellow-eyed bastard's plans for you are, you found out what Dad told me before he died, and you just had to kill Madison. It's been adding up on you for weeks and maybe your stress is making you see and feel things that aren't really there."

"I'm not crazy, Dean."

"I never said you were, Sammy. Don't put words into my mouth."

"Will you just do me a favor and be careful around him?" Sam asked. Dean was about to argue with him, but Sam fixed him with an earnest look. "Please."

Dean sighed. "All right. But I'm telling you, you have nothing to worry about, Sammy."

_I hope you're right._ Sam pushed the laptop away. "So, what did you want to do today?"

Dean got off his bed and dug into his duffel for a pair of jeans. Slipping them on over his boxers he said, "I say we hit the road. We did the salt and burn and Eli should be gone now."

"We need to be sure before we leave, Dean."

Dean slipped a tee shirt on. "We'll stop at the Eclipse before we leave town and run EMF." He finished dressing, and put on his leather jacket. "I'm gonna get us checked out and pick up some breakfast. I'll be back in a little bit."

"Okay. I'll get us packed and ready to go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Dean closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but worry about his baby brother. Sam was really letting his stress get to him and Dean was concerned that it would affect their hunts. Dean knew how it was when Sam's emotions got the better of him—he was careless and lost focus on the task at hand. Dean still couldn't understand why the kid was worried about Robbie because Dean honestly didn't think there was anything wrong with the clerk.

Stepping into the office, he saw Robbie look up from the small television.

"You're up early," Robbie replied.

"Yeah, me and Sam want to get an early start. We've gotta get back to the newspaper and get our story in before the editor wrings our necks."

"Oh…you can't call it in?"

"Nah, our boss is a complete tool. If we don't deliver it in person, he jumps our ass."

Robbie started to tear a sheet of paper into tiny strips. "You guys are gonna come back, right?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Our job is kind of unpredictable."

Robbie pulled out the receipt book from under the counter and pulled off a copy for Dean. "Well, if you fellas ever come back, you're welcome to stay here again."

Dean folded the receipt in half and tucked it into his pocket. "Thanks, Robbie. You take care of yourself, you hear?"

Robbie nodded slowly. "Yeah…you too, Dean…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Robbie watched as Dean walked out of the office and a cold fear went through his body. This couldn't be happening; Dean wasn't supposed to be leaving. Not now…not ever. Didn't he know how much Robbie needed him? Didn't he see how close they were getting? Robbie couldn't accept Dean leaving…it wasn't right.

_Sam!_ He had to be the reason they were leaving. Robbie should have known the younger brother would do anything to keep him away from Dean. Sam had it out for him all along and it was only becoming clearer with each passing hour. This had to end now. He had to put a stop to this before they got away.

"Hey, Brenda!"

A small, plump woman with short cropped brown hair came out of a doorway. "Robbie, what is all the yellin' about, son?"

"I need to go home."

"What for? You're not gettin' sick, are you?"

"No, I just forgot I'm supposed to get a package today and I need to be there to sign for it."

"Why didn't you just have it delivered here?"

"I didn't think about it." Robbie turned pleading eyes on her. He knew it was a cheap shot, but it always worked with Brenda. "Come on, Brenda…please. I'll work all weekend for you."

Brenda sighed and shook her head. "All right. If you have to leave, you have to leave."

Robbie gave the older woman a hug. "Thank you so much, Brenda."

Brenda waved him off. "Yeah, yeah."

Kissing her quickly on the cheek, Robbie grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door. He hated lying to Brenda, but it was necessary. He very well couldn't do anything sitting in the motel office all day. It was time to put his plan into motion and he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam sighed as he stuffed the last of Dean's clothes into his duffel bag. It always amazed Sam what a slob his brother could be. He didn't know why Dean just couldn't grab what he needed out of his bag, instead of dumping everything out. Sam really needed to teach him a few things about organization. _The world will end before I ever get Dean to do that…_

Zipping up the bag, Sam grabbed it and his own and brought them out to the Impala. Popping the trunk, he stacked them on top of the hidden compartment. As he walked back inside for the small weapons bag they always kept with them, the motel phone began to ring. _Who in the world would be calling the room? _Frowning, he picked up the receiver before it could begin its third ring.

"Hello?"

"Sam, is that you?"

Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Robbie?"

"Yeah…listen, I need some help."

"Well, Dean isn't here right now. He went out for a bit."

"Can you help me?"

"I don't…"

"Look, Sam, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't really need it. My car got a flat and I just can't change the tire by myself. If I'm late for work, Brenda's going to kill me and I really need my job."

"Dean will be back soon…"

"I have to be at work in thirty minutes! Please, Sam."

Sam closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. Damn him and his conscience. There was just no way Sam was going to let Robbie sit out there and wait for who knew how long it would take Dean to get there. "Where are you at?"

"Oh, thank you so much, Sam! I'm not too far from the motel. About a couple miles to the north on Culver."

"I'll be there in a few minutes." Sam hung up the phone and grabbed the keys to the Impala. He thought about calling Dean and telling him where he was going, but decided against it. It wouldn't take too long to change a tire and Sam felt he'd be back before Dean returned from getting breakfast.

It only took the psychic about ten minutes to find Robbie. The mousy clerk was standing by his Corsica, frowning at the flat tire. The trunk was standing wide open and a spare tire was leaning against the side. He saw Robbie smile gratefully as he stopped behind the small car.

"Sam, thank God!" Robbie said as Sam stepped out of the Impala.

Sam didn't say anything as he knelt beside the car. Checking the tire over, he looked up at Robbie. "This shouldn't take too long."

"Again, I can't thank you enough for this. It's really nice of you to come out here. I mean, I know you and I haven't really gotten off on the right foot."

Sam placed the jack under the car and began to lift it up off the ground. "Don't worry about it, Robbie." As soon as Sam had the car raised to a sufficient level, he picked up the tire iron and began loosening the lug nuts. He paid no attention as Robbie moved to the trunk and rummaged around.

Robbie moved away from the trunk and walked back towards Sam. "I really did want to get the chance to know you, Sam. I mean, I think we could have been really great friends." He came to a stop behind the hunter. "If this was any other circumstance, I think I could have liked you. But you have something I want."

Sam frowned and reacted a second too late as a whoosh of air met his ears and a sharp stabbing pain exploded through his head. He slumped to the ground in a heap, the darkness consuming him like a warm blanket.


	8. Chapter 8

**No, I haven't finished with my Season Two DVD's yet, but I just couldn't bear to leave you guys like I did in the last chapter. This chapter is a little creepier and I have to admit, I was getting completely freaked as I was writing it. I really hope it does the same for you guys as well! **

**Thanks again so much for taking your time to read and the awesome reviews. They mean so much to me and I really don't think there is any way I can show you just how much they mean. I'm not sure when the next update will be because I have so many writing projects coming up for school. But I promise to get it up as soon as I can. Just keep hounding me or bribing me…which ever one you want to do! **

**Big great thanks to my two betas…Bayre and Sojourner. You guys just do so much for me and I appreciate it so much. **

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam really wished the drum solo in his head would stop, or at the very least play at a softer volume that wouldn't threaten to split his head wide open. He couldn't understand why his head was hurting so much. He couldn't remember having a vision, but the way his head was pounding right now, it was a good possibility that one had taken him down. He tried to bring his hand up to massage his aching skull, but found that for some reason it was proving impossible.

Slowly opening his eyes, he couldn't make out anything but the darkness surrounding him. He tried to lift his head, but as soon as he did he banged it on a hard surface. Gasping as another spike of pain shot through his head, he fought back a wave of nausea threatening to overtake him. Taking a deep breath, he tried to figure out where he was.

He couldn't move his hands, though he knew they were in front of him—that meant he was tied up. Lifting up both hands, he slowly felt around and nearly choked as he felt what surrounded him. There was a wall on either side, not the mention the one that was above his head. _Coffin…I'm trapped in a damn coffin!_

The texture of the walls were different—it was smooth like metal, not the fake silk that usually lined coffins. The young psychic let out a relieved sigh, but wondered why he was doing it. He was still trapped, whether it was in a coffin or not. Sam didn't like the feeling of being trapped. He wouldn't go so far as to say he was claustrophobic, it wasn't like he was about to panic, but he did like the ability to move around and know his surroundings.

_How the hell did I get here?_

Sam frowned and then his eyes widened as the memory hit him full force. _The phone call at the motel…Robbie asking for help…I drove out to where Robbie was standing by his car…I was leaning down to change the flat tire…A sharp pain at the back of my head…then darkness._ He frowned further as he remembered what Robbie said to him before he completely blacked out. _"But you have something I want."_

What the hell was that supposed to mean? What did he have that could make Robbie attack him and stash him somewhere? Sam's stomach churned as he realized he'd been right all along. He knew the motel clerk was bad news and now look where it had landed him. _Why the hell didn't I call Dean before I left?_

_Dean!_

Did Robbie do something to his brother as well? If not, then he knew Dean had to be freaking out when he got to the motel and didn't see Sam or the Impala there. Sam wasn't even sure how long he'd been unconscious. Would Robbie do something to Dean now that Sam was out of the way?

_Not if I can help it…_Gritting his teeth, Sam pushed against his prison with his feet, the hollow sound echoing all around him. It wasn't doing anything for his head, but he couldn't worry about that. He had to get out and get to Dean before it was too late.

"DEAN!" Sam kept yelling his name over and over while constantly kicking the hard surface in front of him, but no one answered back. He was about to start all over again, when he heard a click and all of a sudden, he was rolled backwards. Squinting his eyes as a light hit him, he could barely make out the shape standing over him.

"You can make as much noise as you want, Sam, but no one's gonna hear you. Especially not Dean."

Sam's blood ran cold as he made out Robbie's voice. Blinking his eyes a few more times, he could finally make out Robbie's features, but that wasn't what scared him the most. What did scare him was what the motel clerk was holding in his hand—a long silver knife. To be more specific, one of Dean's prized hunting knives.

"Where are we?"

"We're at the Eclipse, of course. It's amazing what you find in here when you wander around at night. Who knew this place had so many hidden rooms?"

"What do you want, Robbie?"

Robbie smiled. "First, I want you to move over to that chair over there," he said, jutting his chin over his shoulder.

Sam turned his head and saw a sturdy, wooden chair sitting in the middle of the room. Swallowing hard, he tried to come up with options. He could try to make a run for it, but he didn't know how reliable his legs would be after being cramped up for so long. He could fight Robbie, and even though the mousy clerk wasn't something to be intimidated by, he was holding a knife and it was currently pointed as Sam's throat. His third option, and the one that seemed most plausible, would be to go along with Robbie and make a break for it as soon as he saw an opening.

"It wasn't a request, Sam."

Pushing himself up as best he could with his tied hands, Sam twisted his body, planting his feet on the floor. It was then he could see he'd been inside a morgue cabinet the entire time, and that made the nauseous feeling come back. There was no telling how many dead bodies had been inside there over the years.

Standing to his full height, Sam saw from the corner of his eye that Robbie kept his distance, while keeping the knife in a firm grasp in front of him. Walking slowly, Sam finally made his way to the chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving the troubled young man in front of him. "Now what?"

"Now I make sure you don't go anywhere." He brought the knife down and cut the rope around Sam's wrists. "Put your hands behind you."

Sam hesitated. If he was going to make his escape, now would be the time to do it.

Robbie glared at him as if he was reading his mind. "Don't even think about it, Sam. You don't do what I say, I'll go pay Dean a little visit right now."

Sam returned the glare as he slowly brought his hands behind him. His eyes followed Robbie as the clerk produced another coil of rope from a small canvas bag and walked behind him. "You leave Dean alone or I swear to God I'll kill you."

Robbie didn't say anything as he wrapped the rope tightly around Sam's wrists, making sure he secured them to the chair. He gave it one final harsh tug, making the young hunter let out an involuntary grunt. Then, he walked back around to face Sam as he leaned down to tie his feet to each chair leg. After he finished, he stepped back and admired his work.

Sam began to struggle with the ropes, but every move he made only made the hemp dig further into his flesh. "Why are you doing this, Robbie?"

Robbie grabbed another chair and placed it a few feet from Sam. Sitting down, he looked up at the bound man, lightly fingering the blade of the knife. "I'm doing this for Dean."

Sam felt a shiver ravage his body. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Robbie frowned. "I'm saving him from you, Sam."

"What are you talking about?"

Robbie sighed as he stood up and began to pace. "You don't respect him, Sam; you don't treat him like you should treat a brother." He stopped as he fixed Sam with a piercing glare. "But I could do that—I can give Dean what he needs."

Sam scoffed. "That's what this is about?" The hunter shook his head in disbelief. "You get your brother killed and now you want to make up for it by using Dean as a substitute?"

Sam barely had time to react as Robbie stormed the few feet towards him and brought his fist up against his jaw. Sam's head jerked from the impact and he looked at the clerk in mild surprise. He never in a million years thought Robbie could hit like that.

Robbie flexed his right hand, and continued to glare at Sam, chest heaving. "Don't you dare talk about my brother like that!"

The younger Winchester felt a small spark of victory as he saw the anger and pain flash across Robbie's face. That was going to be the way to get out of this mess—use Robbie's painful past against him. "It's true isn't it, Robbie?" Sam asked as he flexed his jaw back and forth.

"Shut up."

"James would still be alive if it weren't for you."

"It was an accident."

"Maybe it was." Sam leveled his gaze at Robbie. "Or maybe it wasn't."

Robbie shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe I don't."

Robbie continued to shake his head, as if he were trying to clear away the horrible memory. "James…he wanted to leave me."

"So you shot him?"

"NO!" Robbie strode towards Sam once, but instead of hitting him, he brought the blade up against the young hunter's throat. "It was an accident, can't you see, Sam? I never meant to hurt my brother…NEVER!"

Sam winced as he felt the blade pierce his skin. He could see he was pushing Robbie too hard, he was making the motel clerk to lose control. If he didn't watch his step, he felt for sure Robbie would kill him on the spot. How could he help Dean if he was dead?

"James was everything to me. He was the only thing I had in this world," Robbie was saying softly.

"But why Dean, Robbie? What is it you think he can do for you?"

Robbie lowered the knife and slowly stepped back from Sam. Sam let out a soft sigh as Robbie once again took his seat.

"I've seen the way Dean treats you, Sam. The way he looks out for you, protects you—I used to have all of that." His brows furrowed together. "Dean could do the same for me. I can show him what a great little brother I could be and with time he'll forget all about you."

Sam's lips twitched into a sardonic smile. "You really think that?"

"I know it." Robbie looked him right in the eyes, his gaze unwavering. "You don't think this is the first time I've done this, do you?"

Sam looked at the deranged man in shock. Just what the hell was that supposed to mean? If it meant what Sam thought it did, then he and Dean were in for a world of trouble. "What are you talking about?"

A slow smile crept across Robbie's face. "Let me share a little story with you, Sam."

_Robbie felt warmth go through him as he unlocked the door to the motel room and saw the young man sleeping on one of the two queen beds in the small room. He'd finally found what he was looking for—he'd finally found the brother he'd been searching for. Sure, he wasn't James but Matthew would be a good replacement._

_Robbie had met the young man as he was passing through Travers on his way to Montgomery, Alabama. Matthew just happened to stop at Travers Inn and needed a place to stay for the night. Right when the lanky man walked through the door, Robbie knew he was there for him. It was almost as if God had finally answered his prayers._

_That was three days ago. Robbie just couldn't let Matthew leave him, not like James had all those years ago. Sure, it had been a little extreme to keep Matthew drugged, but the clerk did what he had to do. He needed to make sure Mathew wasn't going to leave. He needed Matthew to see what a great brother he could be._

_It had helped that Matthew was traveling alone. It made his disappearance that much easier to brush off because he didn't have anyone hanging around asking questions. Robbie had an old garage in his backyard, so he'd stashed Matthew's car in there. It got it out of the way and he knew no one would ever think to look there for it. _

_The room he was keeping Matthew in wasn't hard to cover up either. He'd signed a fake name to it, and with the money he'd saved over the years from working at the motel, Robbie was easily taking care of the bills. He saw no problems with his plan—this was actually going to work. Robbie was going to get everything he ever wanted and no one would be the wiser._

_Softly closing the door behind him, he flipped the lock and set down the paper bag of food on the small table. Matthew really needed to eat something especially with the sedatives in his system. He didn't want Matthew to get sick because he didn't want to have to clean up the mess._

_Matthew still wasn't comprehending what Robbie was wanting from him, though the motel clerk explained it to him many times over. The first day had been hard because Matthew kept trying to get away from him. Robbie had to knock him out and tie him to the bed, at least until he could get his hands on some sedatives. Luckily for him, he had a friend that worked at the hospital and it was easy to get his hands on medication strong enough to take down a horse._

_Taking the food from the bag, Robbie spread it out on the table, the aromas from the diner food instantly filling the room. He wasn't exactly sure what Matthew liked to eat since they hadn't quite gotten to that topic of discussion as of yet. He'd decided to play it safe and ordered everything from burgers and fries, to cookies. Matthew was bound to like something on the table._

_Deciding it was time to wake up Matthew, Robbie went into the small bathroom and grabbed a small glass of water. He'd learned the first day not to get too close to the young man when he woke him up. The bruise on his jaw was proof of that as Matthew had hit him in a startled fit. Turning to go back into the room, Robbie paused in the doorway and was shocked when he saw Matthew was no longer lying in the bed._

"_What the hell?"_

_Setting down the cup on the counter, Robbie slowly reached behind his back and pulled out the small pistol he kept there for emergencies. He didn't want to shoot Matthew, but he had the gun just to show the young man he was serious. He'd never had to pull it out so far, but then again there was a first time for everything._

"_Matthew? Where are you?" Robbie called softly._

_Nothing but silence greeted him so Robbie took a cautious step forward. There was no telling where Matthew could be hiding though the tiny room didn't give too many good hiding spots. "Come on, Matthew…don't do this."_

_Robbie heard a noise behind him, but before he could turn around to confront it, he was pushed roughly to the ground. He managed to keep his grip on the gun and he saw a pair of feet clumsily make their way past him. Pushing himself up from the ground, he saw Matthew reaching for the doorknob. _

"_Matthew, don't do it!" He brought the gun up once again, clicking off the safety._

_Matthew's eyes widened, though he still kept one hand on the knob. The other he held up in a placating manner. "What—what are you doing?"_

_Robbie gave a casual shrug. "That depends. Where do you think you're going?"_

"_I'm getting out of here."_

_The clerk shook his head. "No, you're not."_

"_You can't keep me locked in here like this!"_

"_I wouldn't have to keep you locked up if you would just listen to me. If you would just give in to this."_

"_Give in to what?" Matthew's voice raised a panicked octave._

"_You're my brother, Matthew. Can't you see there's not anything I wouldn't do for you? I want to show you I can be a great little brother."_

_It was Matthew's turn to shake his head. "I'm not your brother. How many times do I have to tell you that?"_

_Robbie expression became pained. "But you could be."_

"_I don't want to be!" Matthew swallowed hard. "Please, I just want to go home to my family."_

"_I'm your family now."_

"_You're crazy! You can't keep me here!" Matthew's hand tightened on the knob, but before he could twist it, Robbie pulled the trigger shooting the fearful man in the back. Matthew fell against the door and Robbie watched with wide eyes as he slowly slid to the floor, leaving a smeared bloody trail on the door._

_Robbie threw down the gun and ran over to Matthew. He turned the downed man onto his back, but it was too late for him. Matthew's eyes were closed and he wasn't breathing._

"_Why did you make me do this, huh? We could have been happy together, Matthew." Robbie pushed Matthew's hair away from his eyes. "I couldn't let you leave me, Matthew. I couldn't let anyone else have you so really, you only have yourself to blame for this."_

"I never wanted to kill him, Sam, but I had to. He wanted to leave me, just like James did and I couldn't bear that. I couldn't stand to lose another brother like that." Robbie looked up at Sam, but his face was expressionless.

"He never was your brother to begin with. You killed an innocent man."

Robbie shook his head. "No, I stopped him from hurting me. I stopped him from walking out on me."

"You still killed him. _You_ made him go away. How does that justify murder?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand, Sam." Robbie leaned forward in his seat, the knife still held firmly in his hand. "I made it where Matthew could never leave me. He's always with me now."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Robbie gave a half shrug and left the question hanging.

Sam couldn't believe the young man sitting in front of him. He thought Robbie was a little "off" but this went way beyond hearing the voices in your head. The motel clerk was certifiably deranged. How in the world could he justify a murder like this? In Sam's book, if you took an innocent life, it was murder—simple as that—there was no other way around it.

Now, Sam was very worried not only for himself, but for Dean as well. What exactly did Robbie have in store for the two of them? Was he planning on doing the same thing to Dean as he'd done to Matthew? Sam knew something else which settled a sick knot on his stomach—there was no way Robbie was going to let Sam stop him from getting what he wanted.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Robbie tilted his head. "Cat got your tongue?"

Sam licked his dry lips. "What are you going to do with me?"

Robbie smiled. "I'm not going to do anything—at least, not right now. I figure I'll just keep you outta the way for a little while and we'll see what happens."

"Dean's never going to go along with this." Sam knew his brother. There was no way Dean was going to let some psycho take Sam's place. Dean was damn protective as it was, but when it came to Sam, he was downright lethal when it came to protecting what was his.

"Maybe he won't right away, but he will eventually."

Sam was about to respond when a loud chirping echoed all around him. He instantly recognized the sound as his cell phone. Straining his neck, he searched until he saw it lying on a small table a few feet away from him.

Robbie said nothing as he walked towards it. Picking it up, he glanced at the screen and smiled at Sam. "Well, well, well…speaking of Dean." The phone rang a few more times, then ceased. Not even thirty seconds later, the phone resumed its ringing. "He's persistent, ain't he?"

Sam knew Dean had to be freaking out right now. He could imagine his older brother pacing their small motel room angrily, cursing out anything in his path. Dean never handled anything relating to Sam's potential harm very well, especially as of late. After Sam had disappeared for a week a couple months ago, Dean did everything in his power to keep a close eye on him, whether Sam wanted it or not. At the time it had been a pain in the ass, but now—what Sam wouldn't give to have Dean with him here.

Robbie placed the ringing phone on the table once again. "I guess I better go make sure Dean's okay. I can only imagine how worried he must be about you, Sam."

"You leave Dean alone." Sam's voice was cold.

Robbie walked over to his bag and after putting down the knife, he pulled something out. Since his back was to Sam, the young hunter couldn't see what it was. "I told you, Sam…I'm not going to do anything to Dean. I would never hurt my own brother." Walking back towards Sam, the disturbed young man pulled a handkerchief between his hands, stretching it out.

"Come on, Robbie, don't do this!"

Robbie ignored Sam and walked behind him. Sam struggled in his chair to try to get away from Robbie, but to no avail. The ropes were holding him firmly in place. "Don't make me knock you out again, Sam. I'm pretty sure another blow to the head wouldn't be good for you."

Sam grunted in pain and annoyance as the handkerchief was stuffed into his mouth and tied tightly. "Now, I know I said you could scream all you want, but I can't take the chance of someone hearing you. You know what a hotspot this place has been lately." Robbie stepped back and smiled at Sam as the psychic glared at him.

"I'll come back and check on you later, Sam." Robbie walked to where he left his bag and picked up the knife. "I'll just take this with me. I'd hate for you to get any ideas while I'm gone." He reached down to the ground and pulled up a small lantern, which he placed on the table. "Just to show you that I'm not completely heartless, I'll leave this with you. I know how scary it can get here during the night."

Sam continued to glare, eyes sharpening to slits.

Robbie turned the lantern on and gave Sam a small wave. "I'll give Dean my regards for you."

Sam struggled in vain as Robbie strolled out of the room, whistling softly. Sam heard the click of a lock as the door closed behind Robbie, leaving the hunter alone.

The younger Winchester's frustrated screams went unheard.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks again for the awesome reviews, guys! You are really making this such a blast for me and I always look forward to writing more for you! **

**This chapter is a little shorter than my last ones, but I had to end it where I did or this would otherwise be known as the never-ending chapter… **

**Huge thanks to my two awesome betas…Bayre and Sojourner…I love you guys so much! **

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"Hey, Sammy! You think you can give me a hand here?"

Dean pushed through the door to the motel room, his hands laden with a plastic bag of food and coffee from Moe's Diner. Kicking the door closed, he frowned when there was no answer from his brother. "Come on, Sam, I could really use some help."

Still there was no answer—no smart ass comments, no arguments, nothing.

"Sam!"

Seeing the bathroom door closed, Dean set down the food and beverages on the small table, and pounded on the door. "Sammy, you better be glued to that toilet seat or unconscious." Dean thought about that. "You know what—scratch that last part. I don't wanna see your naked ass."

Dean listened, but still heard nothing from his younger brother. Twisting the knob, he found it turned easily in his hand. He pushed it open and saw that there was no sign of his little brother. Eyes narrowing, he turned back towards the room and noticed their small weapons bag lying on his bed, but their other bags appeared to be gone.

"What the hell…?"

Dean went back to the door and opened it. "Now, how the hell did I miss that?"

Seriously, how did he miss the fact his large black car was missing? What made it worse was the fact that his freakishly tall little brother was also missing. _Maybe he ran to the store for something...Maybe he got worried about me…but why didn't he call me? I had my phone with me the entire time._

Dean couldn't stop the fear coursing through his body. He knew he was probably overreacting, but after Sam's disappearing act back in Texas, the hunter couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to the worst possibilities, especially when it came to Sam. It was his job to protect Sam, but how could he do that when he was constantly managing to lose the kid?

But who the hell would want Sam? Who even knew where they were for that matter? Dean made it a point not to let anyone know where they were, even Bobby. They stayed safer that way and after the bank heist fiasco in Milwaukee, Dean couldn't help but take every single precaution to make sure he and Sam stayed under the radar. If that meant alienation from the people that cared about them, then so be it. As far as Dean Winchester was concerned, he only had one person in the world he needed to keep in contact with, and right now that person was nowhere to be seen.

Yanking his cell phone from his jacket pocket, Dean hit the speed-dial number for Sam. Bringing it up to his ear, he frowned further when the phone went to voice mail. _"Hey, this is Sam…Leave me a message."_

"Come on, Sammy. Quit screwing around with me and answer your damn phone."

As soon as Dean hung up the phone, he dialed the number again and was met with the same result. _"Hey, this is Sam…Leave me a message."_

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean growled in frustration and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Why in the world was Sam not answering his phone? He was completely anal with his cell phone and Dean knew his brother would answer it unless he had a very good reason not to. A reason that Dean didn't even want to begin to fathom.

Grabbing the key to their room, Dean shoved it into his pocket and left the room. Maybe Robbie or someone in the office had seen Sam leave. It wasn't like the Impala was a vehicle that could be easily missed, especially with its deep rumbling V8 engine.

As Dean pushed the office door open, a small bell announced his presence to the small woman sitting behind the counter. _Brenda_, Dean remembered.

"Can I help you, sugar?"

"Uh, yeah…is Robbie around here?" Dean asked, looking behind the woman for any sign of the mousy clerk.

"No, he went home not too long ago. Said something about waiting for a package." Brenda shook her head. "Still don't know why the boy didn't have it delivered here. He stays here more than he does at his own place."

_Yeah, lady, that's real fascinating, but I really don't have the time to sit here and make small talk with you._ "Listen, I was wondering if you noticed my brother leaving. He's a little taller than me, needs a hair cut…he would have driven off in a '67 Chevy Impala…black…"

"No, I don't think so…" Brenda shook her head slowly, but then her eyes flashed in recognition. "Oh, wait! I did see him leave! Couldn't have been no more than an hour ago."

"Did you see which way he headed?"

Brenda smiled teasingly at him. "Don't tell me your brother left without you."

_I only hope that's the case and if so, I am so kicking his ass._ "Nah, Sammy wouldn't do that."

Brenda nodded her head towards the door. "I thought I saw him heading north."

Dean smiled gratefully at the woman. "Thanks."

"Is everything okay, sugar?" Brenda looked at him, concern lining her face.

"It will be." Dean pushed out the door and nearly bumped into someone. "Oh, sorry," he apologized lamely.

"Dean! I was just coming to look for you!"

Dean arched a brow at the young mousy clerk. "Robbie, I thought you were at home."

"Oh, I was waiting for a package in the mail, but it didn't come." Robbie shrugged. "Oh, well…maybe tomorrow."

"Listen, I'd like to talk, but I'm kind of in the middle of something." Dean pushed past Robbie and headed back towards his room.

"What is it?" Robbie hurried to catch up with him. "Maybe I can help you with it."

"I'm trying to find Sam."

"What do you mean? Is he missing?"

"I don't know. I can't find him anywhere...the Impala is missing…" Dean unlocked the door to the room and walked inside, Robbie at his heels.

"Maybe he had to go do something and forgot to leave a note."

Dean shook his head as he pulled the small weapons bag off his bed and slung it over his shoulder. "That's not Sammy. He doesn't go anywhere without letting me know."

"Where would he go?"

"I don't know. I just talked to Brenda and she said she thought she saw him heading north about an hour ago." Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam's number once again. When the voice mail picked up, he angrily jabbed the END button.

"He's not answering his phone?"

Dean shook his head. "No, it keeps going to his voice mail."

"Maybe he just can't hear it ringing," Robbie offered helpfully.

"Sam would answer it unless he absolutely couldn't."

"Did you guys have a fight?"

"No, at least I don't remember us having one. Besides, if Sam's pissed at me, he'll take a walk. He wouldn't take the Impala."

"Maybe he just decided to ditch you," Robbie muttered.

"Do what?"

"No—nothing…" Robbie stammered. "Did you need me to give you a lift?"

"Could you?"

Robbie nodded. "Sure. My car's right outside."

"Great." Dean opened the door and followed Robbie out to his small car. Throwing his weapons bag onto the backseat, amid all the trash Robbie had back there, he climbed into the passenger seat, his thoughts completely on his missing brother.

There's no way Sam would ditch him, especially not right now. Sure, Sam got pissed at him from time to time, but that was nothing new between the brothers. After spending as much time as they did together, there was bound to be tension between the two Winchesters. And while Sam did like his space every now and then, he would never abandon Dean…at least, Dean hoped Sam would never abandon him.

Maybe the stress of everything finally got to his young brother. Maybe Sam's frayed nerves finally got the better of him and he just needed to get away from it all. But the hunt was over now, and Sam knew they'd be hitting the road within a couple of hours. So why would he decide to leave Dean now?

"Dean, is that…" Robbie's voice trailed off as he pointed at the road ahead.

Dean tore himself away from his troubled thoughts, but immediately wished his thoughts had been right. There was no way now. There was no way Sam had ditched him and the proof was in the fact the Impala was pulled over to the side of the road, the driver's door wide open. Sam wouldn't be stupid enough to leave the car in the middle of nowhere since he knew what Dean would do to him if something happened to it. Dean was momentarily surprised the door hadn't been hit by passing traffic, or worse yet, the Impala hadn't been stolen. But the abandoned car left him in even deeper panic for Sam than when he'd found the hotel room empty.

"Crap…" the hunter muttered. He jumped out of Robbie's car before the clerk could bring the small car to a stop. Rushing over to his classic, Dean frowned when he saw the keys were still in the ignition. There didn't appear to be any blood anywhere in the car, and that relieved Dean's fears a fraction of a millimeter.

Stepping away from the door, Dean walked a little ahead as he noticed a second set of tire tracks in the dirt. Frowning, he leaned down and saw something that made his heart jump into his throat. There was blood on the surface of the asphalt. Dipping his finger into it, Dean saw that it was fresh. _No, no, no, no, no, no!_

"Is that…is that blood?" Robbie asked from behind him.

"Yeah," Dean said softly. _Sam's blood._

"Oh, my God…"

Standing up, Dean hunted wildly for any sign of his little brother, hoping against hope he was lying somewhere injured. _Maybe he was robbed…maybe someone knocked him out and just left him in the ditch or something..._Even as the thoughts for a plausible explanation raced through his head, Dean didn't believe them for a second. Sam had been taken—it was just as simple as that.

Still, it didn't stop Dean from walking up and down the roadside, seeking out his sibling.

"Sammy! Sam, answer me!"

"You don't think he's—"

"No!" Dean whirled on Robbie and the clerk jumped back in surprise. "Don't say that! Sam's not dead!"

"But, the blood—"

"It doesn't mean anything! Sam's not dead! He's out there somewhere and I'm going to find him, you hear me?"

Robbie nodded and swallowed hard. Dean knew he was scaring the kid, but it didn't bother him as bad as it should have. Sam was missing—that was all that mattered right now. Sam was out there somewhere, injured, and Dean had to find him. It was Dean's all consuming thought.

"Do you think you should call the police?" Robbie asked carefully.

"No, no police. I'll find Sam myself." Storming back to Robbie's car, he grabbed his weapons bag out of the backseat. Throwing it over his shoulder, he walked to the Impala and climbed in.

"Do you want me to help you?" Robbie asked, leaning down in the window.

"No, Robbie. Just go home." Dean started up the car.

"But—"

"Go, Robbie." Dean barely let the clerk move out of the way before he sped away. Looking back in the rearview mirror, he saw the young man staring after him, clearly hurt. Yes, Dean Winchester could be called an ass—was quite frequently actually, but when it came to Sam, one could call him by any name in the book and he wouldn't give a shit. He had only one drive at that moment, and that was Sam alive, safe…home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Robbie could feel his blood boiling as he watched Dean drive off. This wasn't how everything was supposed to play out. Dean wasn't supposed to be racing off, searching for his brother. Why couldn't Dean just believe Sam just up and left? Why in the world did Robbie have to offer to help? And why didn't he do a better job of cleaning up after himself?

He made a rookie move—there was no doubt about it. Robbie should have hidden the Impala and done something about the blood, but no. He'd been anxious to get Sam out of the way and get back to Dean. Now his mistake was costing him what he'd been working for. He was going to lose Dean—he was going to lose his brother all over again.

No—no, that couldn't happen again. He couldn't go through that pain again. He had to do something and he had to do it now. He saw the determination in Dean's eyes when he saw the blood on the road—he was going to stop at nothing to find Sam.

Robbie couldn't have that—he couldn't let Dean find Sam. He also knew he couldn't let Sam get away. It was as simple as that…Sam Winchester would have to die.

There just was no other way around it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Again, thank you so much for all of the reviews. It makes me so happy that you are enjoying what my twisted mind is coming up with. There is definitely some more twisted Robbie on the way, especially in the next couple of chapters! **

**Speaking of next chapter (Chapter 11), it may take a bit longer to get up because a friend of mine gave me a wonderful idea and I am really wanting to run with it and make it absolutely incredible for you! Not to mention, all the schoolwork I am putting off to write… **

**So many thanks goes out to my two wonderful betas…Bayre and Sojourner! **

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Dean could feel his frustration growing with each minute he couldn't get to Sam. How could he have been so stupid to leave his brother alone at the motel? Granted, there was no reason to suspect that anything was going to happen to Sam, but still, Dean prided himself on being able to take care of the youngest Winchester. Every time Dean left his brother, he always had the irrational fear that something may happen to Sam. He knew most of the time it was just his fears playing with him, but not this time. This time had been different. This time something really happened to Sam and Dean couldn't forgive himself for that.

He'd been driving around Travers for the past hour, stopping at every single store asking about Sam and showing around his picture. But he was still met with the same result every time—no one had seen Sam. Dean knew it could be a waste of time, but he had to try it anyway. He was willing to do anything to get Sam back, preferably and hopefully in one piece.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning a bright shade of white. As soon as he found who took his baby brother, there would be hell to pay. You could mess with Dean all you wanted, inflict any kind of physical pain on him you wished. When you crossed the line and messed with Sam, then you might as well have your affairs in order, because there was no way you were walking away unscathed. It was just the way Dean was, the way he was programmed when it came to Sam. He'd been like that since the day he held Sam in his small arms when their mother was killed.

Who could have taken Sam? That was the million dollar question and Dean wished he had the answer, or at least knew someone who did. It was a small Podunk town for crying out loud—Sam couldn't have gotten too far.

Another thing was troubling the hunter—Robbie. He was certainly acting jumpy around Dean and it was almost as if he was trying to convince Dean that maybe Sam had ditched him. He seemed almost adamant about it and slightly disappointed when Dean wouldn't agree with him. Could the mousy little clerk know more about this than he was letting on? Could Robbie have done something to Sam?

Dean chuckled a little at that thought and shook his head. There was no way he could picture Robbie being able to get the drop on Sam. For one thing, Sam stood a good foot taller than the young man and another thing, Dean was sure if Sam thumped Robbie it would knock the kid out. No, there was just no way Robbie could be behind this, Dean was sure of it.

Well, ninety percent sure, anyway…

Turning into the motel parking lot, Dean noticed Robbie's Corsica was nowhere to seen. Pulling up to the office, Dean got out of the car and walked inside, once again seeing Brenda behind the desk.

"Did you ever find your brother?"

Dean shook his head. "No, not yet."

"Well, there's not too many places around here he could be. Travers really isn't known for its size, you know."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I kind of got that."

Brenda sighed. "I sure hope he's okay."

"Me too. Listen, do you have many cases of missing persons?"

"Not really, no. I mean, the last missing person we had was a couple of years ago. The police never found out what happened to him. He was some college kid passing though on his way to see his family. He stopped here for the night."

"Do you happen to remember his name?"

Brenda pursed her lips in concentration. "Oh, let's see, what was his name? Mike…Mark…oh, it was Matthew—Matthew Grant."

Dean tapped his hand on the desk. "Thanks a lot, Brenda." He started towards the door.

Brenda's voice stopped him before he could push through the door. "You know, Robbie would be the one to talk to if you wanted to know about Matthew."

Dean turned back to look at the small woman. "Why do you say that?"

Brenda gave a casual shrug. "Robbie talked to him a lot. Seemed really devastated when Matthew went missing."

The elder Winchester frowned. Was it a coincidence Robbie happened to be connected to the missing college student or could the mousy young man have something to do with his disappearance? "Could you give me Robbie's address, Brenda?"

"Why do you need to know that?"

"I left my cell phone in his car," Dean lied. "I really need to get it back in case Sam calls."

"Oh." Brenda reached for a slip of paper and scribbled something on it. Holding it out for Dean she said, "I hope everything works out for you, sugar."

Dean looked at the address then back up at Brenda with a small smile. "Thanks Brenda."

"Sure thing and good luck."

Dean had to snort sardonically at that. Luck was a bitch for the Winchesters—at least good luck was. Bad luck seemed to follow them wherever they went. As Dean climbed into his car, he really hoped maybe his luck would change for the better. At least enough so he could get Sam back.

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Sam honestly couldn't remember the last time he felt so truly helpless. He hated this feeling more than anything in the world because it made him feel weak, inferior. The Winchester brothers were anything but weak and inferior, their dad having taught them how to fend for themselves and prepare them to expect anything at anytime.

How Sam ever let Robbie get the drop on him, he would never know. He was usually so well guarded and cautious, but he let himself become gullible and trustful. Maybe he needed to take a page out of Dean's book and close himself off, not think the best in everyone. It was a tactic that worked for Dean time after time and maybe it would work for Sam as well. Maybe it would stop him from getting into predicaments such as this, always having Dean ride to his rescue.

_God, this so makes me feel like the bitch…_

As soon as Robbie had left, Sam began trying to find a way out of his mess. He had no idea what the psychotic clerk was planning for his brother and him, only knew that it couldn't be good. And that story about Matthew—what the hell was up with that? Was Robbie that desperate for companionship he was willing to kill for it? Well, the obvious answer would be yes…he killed Matthew and Sam was pretty sure he would be falling in the unfortunate young man's footsteps.

Struggling with the ropes that bound his hands, he knew he was rubbing his skin raw. He could feel the slight stickiness of blood on his wrists as he tried to build some slack in the ropes, but he just couldn't make any leeway with them. Screaming once again in frustration through the gag, he threw his head back and tried to control his anxiety.

Sam wanted so desperately to be able to let Dean know where he was and with every single passing minute, Sam became that much more desperate for his brother. He hated that he had to rely on Dean so much, hated the stress that he put on his sibling's shoulders. Dean had to be out of his mind with worry right now and it just made Sam realize how much he did that to Dean.

Rotating his neck and letting his eyes play around the small morgue, Sam searched out for anything he could use to cut through the ropes. The odds of a scalpel lying around were pretty slim to none with his luck, but maybe there was something sharp he could use. As his eyes roamed, he spotted a collection of old jars with only God knew what in them, sitting on an old counter. Figuring he could knock one over and use one of the shards of glass to cut the ropes, he began the slow process of scooting towards the counter.

It took a few minutes of scooting and grunting, but finally Sam was positioned in front of the counter. Sitting there for a second, catching his breath, he tried to come up with the best way to get the jar to the ground. Seeing as his legs were tied to the chair, there was no way he could kick the jar down and with his hands tied tightly to the chair, he couldn't reach high enough to achieve his goal either.

_Come on, Sam…use your head…My head!_

Sam let out a hysterical laugh as he realized he could do just that. Leaning forward as best as he could, he used his head to nudge the jar a few inches to his right. Bringing his head back up, he saw he only had a few more inches to go. Once again, he nudged the jar and let himself feel a moment of success when he heard it crash against the floor, shattering into many pieces.

Sitting the chair back down, Sam took a minute to compose himself. Catching his breath, he spied a large piece of glass that would be more than suitable to cut through the bonds. Yet again, it posed a problem by how he was going to get the glass in his hands without cutting himself to shreds. Seeing how he had no other option, he tipped the chair over away from the larger shards of glass and fell to the ground, rather ungracefully. He felt a few small pieces cut through his shirt and penetrate his skin, but he ignored the way they bit into his flesh, ignored the pain.

Somehow, he maneuvered himself towards the large piece of glass and hissed as he felt it slice into his hand. Realizing he needed to be a little more careful, he positioned the glass between his thumb and index finger while trying to keep it away from his palm. Slowly, he moved and glass up and down, sawing through the tough hemp. It took a few agonizing minutes, but finally he felt the ropes begin to unravel and finally snap apart.

Bringing his hands forward, he sawed through the ropes holding his legs to the chair. Throwing down the shard, he carefully got up from the floor and tore of the gag. Taking a step forward, he had to grab onto the counter in order to regain his balance. Sam could feel pins and needles running through his arms and legs as they fought to regain circulation. After a couple of moments, he felt good enough to move away from the counter and explore his surroundings.

Immediately moving to the door, he found that Robbie did indeed lock it. With it being locked from the outside, there was no way Sam would be able to pick it. Hitting the door in anger, he turned looking for another possible exit. There were no windows and glancing up, he saw pipes running along the length of the ceiling. There would be no crawling through the air ducts, since there weren't any in here. Of course, with this being a hidden room Sam didn't see why there would be an escape route—after all, it was a _hidden room_. To put it bluntly, Sam Winchester was trapped.

Letting out a long frustrated breath, he looked around to see if he could see his phone lying anywhere. Going over to the small table it had been on earlier, Sam was slightly disappointed to find that it was now gone. It shouldn't have surprised him, but he was hoping maybe Robbie would have slipped up and left it there. Sam closed his eyes tightly, trying to push down the anxiousness that was threatening to overcome him.

His eyes immediately snapped open when he heard the faint sound of someone whistling. Rushing to the door and pressing his ear against it, he could hear the whistling getting closer and closer.

"Shit, Robbie's back," he said softly and somehow hearing his own voice was slightly comforting.

He searched around frantically for anything he could use as a weapon. Spotting an old mop leaning against the wall, he hurried towards it. Holding it out in front of him, he stomped down on it, causing it to break apart. Holding the long handle solidly in his hands, he ran back to the door, hiding to the side of it. When Robbie opened it, he was going to catch him by surprise.

Hearing Robbie unlatch the lock, Sam braced himself as he took a deep breath. It wasn't that he was scared of the clerk—it was the fact that Robbie was so unpredictable that Sam didn't know what he was capable of. If Sam learned anything from going on hunts with his dad and Dean, it was that people were erratic and compulsive, dangerous on a level that half the things out there couldn't even touch.

Sam wasn't going to take that chance…not when Dean's and his lives were at stake.

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Robbie stopped his whistling as he came to the door to the morgue, listening for any sounds inside the room. He smiled as he didn't hear anything coming from the other side—no sounds of struggling, no moving around, nothing. _Guess Sam must have given up his fight…Don't worry, Sam…I'm about to bring everything to a close. _

Reaching up to unlatch the lock, he slowly pushed the door open, and felt his blood run cold as he saw the chair lying on it's side, but no sign of Sam.

"What the—"

Robbie reached behind his back and pulled out the revolver he'd stowed there before getting out of his car. Of course, he'd had the gun hidden in his trunk the entire time, just in case a opportunity like this presented itself again, like it had with Matthew. Robbie didn't want to use the gun—it just wasn't personal enough for him. He didn't want to give Sam the same death he'd given Matthew. No, he wanted Sam to hurt. He wanted Dean to hurt for denying him.

Pushing off the safety, he held the gun up as he took a step forward. There weren't many places Sam could be hiding. Robbie had made sure of that when he picked this room to trap Sam in. He hadn't wanted Sam to have any chance of getting the drop on him and the morgue provided the perfect setting for that. There really were only two places Sam could be hiding—in the drawers or behind the door.

Knowing how freaked Sam was when he woke up in the drawer, Robbie found it highly unlikely Sam would be in there again. Add to the fact, Sam wouldn't be able to close the drawer once he was on the inside. So, that only left the door.

Taking a deep breath, Robbie pushed his full weight into the door and smiled when he heard a grunt of pain. He pressed his weight into the door once again and heard something fall to the ground. Seeing an old mop handle roll away, Robbie kicked it out of the way and brought his gun up to aim it at Sam's head.

"Going somewhere, Sam?"

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Pulling up the tree-lined drive, Dean had to admit he wasn't surprised by where Robbie lived. The small house was situated on about one acre of secluded land, with no other neighbors in sight. In fact, the closer Dean got to Robbie's house, the more he realized how far in the country Robbie lived. If it had not been for Brenda's good directions, Dean was sure he never would have known that the house was out here.

Turning off the ignition, he saw Robbie's car was nowhere to be found. Dean knew he'd upset the kid earlier by taking off without him, but he was surprised that Robbie wasn't here. Robbie didn't seem the type to drown his sorrows in alcohol, so maybe he was out driving around. The kid's absence was good for Dean, because it made snooping around so much easier.

Pulling out his .45 from the glove compartment, he slipped it into the waistband of his pants as he got out of the car. Shutting the door, he looked around the yard and spotted an old garage. He wasn't sure what was making him go back there, but he learned long ago to trust his instincts.

Coming to a stop in front of the large door, he saw there was a padlock securing it.

"This is going to be a piece of cake."

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his lock pick and within a few seconds, he had the lock off. Reaching at the bottom, he lifted up on the door and cringed as it squeaked loudly, though he knew no one was around to hear him.

Lifting the door high above his head, he pulled out his small flashlight and shined the beam all around. The garage was barren except for the small pick-up truck sitting in the middle, a thick coat of dust on the exterior. Dean frowned, not seeing a reason why the truck should be sitting in here. It was a newer model, at least a couple of years old and looked to be in perfect condition. Walking around to the back of the truck, Dean's frown deepened as the saw the license plate was from Oklahoma.

"What is going on here?"

Dean walked back to the driver's side door and pulled it open. Shining his light all around the interior he saw it was littered with empty soda bottles and snack wrappers. Reaching over to the glove compartment, he opened it and rifled through the things in there—owner's manual, a small notepad, pens, a pair of sunglasses and an envelope.

Putting the flashlight in his mouth, Dean pulled out the envelope and opened it, finding a bright yellow folded piece of paper. Carefully unfolding it, his eyes widened when he saw the name on the paper: _Matthew Grant_.

"What the hell is Robbie doing with Matthew's truck in his garage?"

Dean returned the envelope back to the glove compartment and left the confines of the truck. Walking out of the garage, he pulled the door down and locked it once again. Jogging to the back of the small house, Dean found the knob turned easily in his hand.

"Guess he doesn't believe in security for his house."

Pulling the gun from his waistband, Dean cautiously stepped into Robbie's kitchen. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for in here, but finding the truck in the garage made the alarm go off in Dean's head. Robbie was definitely up to no good and Dean had a sinking feeling Sam had been right about the clerk the entire time.

Walking out of the kitchen, Dean noticed a door off to his immediate right. Holding out his hand, he tried the knob but it didn't turn. Arching an eyebrow, Dean was surprised that this door was locked while his house remained unlocked. _Definitely weird…_

Stepping back from the door, Dean lifted his up his foot and brought it firmly against it. The flimsy door swung open after one kick and Dean's nostrils were instantly assaulted with a foul smell that made his stomach churn. Flicking his flashlight on once again, the sight that greeted him instantly made bile rise in the back of his throat.

"You must be Matthew…" he choked out.

Lying on the bed in the middle of the room was a body. As Dean slowly approached it, he had to hold an arm across his mouth to keep the nausea at bay. The body appeared to be that of a young man, but he was so decayed, Dean really had no way of proving, other than the sick realization in his gut that it was in fact Matthew Grant.

A cold fear gripped Dean's heart as he realized what he stumbled onto, what his brother may be involved in right now. Sam had been right about Robbie the entire time and Dean had stubbornly refused to listen to him. Now because of Dean's stupidity, Sam was missing, possibly in the hands of a psycho.

The rock music on Dean's phone startled him. He quickly reached into his pocket and yanked it out.

"Sammy? Is that you?"

_"Not quite, but he is here with me."_

"Robbie, I swear to God, if you hurt my brother, I'll kill you!"

_"I'm afraid it may be a little late for that, Dean. You see, Sam tried to get away and I couldn't let him do that." _

Dean felt rage coursing through his body, but managed to keep his voice under control. "Where is he?"

_"We're waiting for you at the Eclipse. We're down in the morgue…seems appropriate, don't you think, Dean?" _

Dean closed his eyes tightly, but didn't say anything. _God Sammy…I am so sorry…_

_"You still with me, Dean?" _

"Yes," Dean bit out.

_"Good…we'll be waiting for you." _

The phone clicked in Dean's ear, signaling Robbie had hung up. Dean screamed in frustration and tore out of the house. As Dean sped out of the driveway in the Impala, towards the Eclipse, he only had one thought racing through his mind.

He was going to make Robbie pay for this, if it was the last thing he did. He'd messed with the wrong person when he decided to go after Dean's little brother.


	11. Chapter 11

**So, here is the next chapter! Sorry it took a while for me to get it up, but I did warn you that my life may get in the way. This chapter really sets the stage for Robbie to begin his "fun" so I really hope that you enjoy it! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews and encouragement. They mean the absolute world to me! **

**Big, super thanks to my betas…Bayre and Sojourner! **

**Next chapter will come as soon as I can get it up! **

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"Dean's on his way, Sam." Robbie looked over at Sam, a small smile on his face. Hanging up Sam's phone, Robbie waved the gun at him, urging him over to the chair once again.

"I told you to keep Dean out of it." Sam said, as he slowly got up from the floor and walked over to the chair. How the hell he let the psychotic clerk get the better of him once again, Sam just didn't know. He could only imagine the shit and ridicule Dean would give him for this. Then again, Sam could always bring up the fact that Dean let a thirteen year old girl get the drop on him back when they were dealing with the Benders. The thought made Sam chuckle, albeit a little hysterically.

"What are you laughing at?" Robbie asked as he yanked Sam's hands behind his back.

"None of your damn business," Sam ground out as he felt the rope once again bite into his wrists.

"You won't be laughing soon, Sam." Robbie tightened the ropes with a final jerk, causing Sam to grunt in pain. _Déjà vu all over again_, Sam thought ruefully. "Not when you see what I have planned for you."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Sam asked as Robbie secured his legs to the chair.

Robbie looked up at him and smiled. "I wouldn't want to give away the big punch line, now would I?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I guess not." As soon as Robbie finished, Sam tested for slack in the ropes and wasn't surprised when he found they once again held strong. "You still don't have it in your head that Dean's not going to be your so-called 'brother,' do you?"

Robbie dug into his bag and pulled out a cordless jigsaw. Holding it up, he inspected the thin blade, then looked at Sam. "I can see now that Dean will never be what I need; he's too obsessed in his desire to make sure nothing happens to you."

"So, what is this all about now, Robbie?"

Robbie shrugged as he pulled the other chair across the room and positioned it under one of the support beams of the ceiling. "The way I see it, Sam, if I can't have Dean as a brother, then why should you?"

Sam felt a cold fear grip his heart as Robbie's words sunk in. _He's going to kill Dean and me…_"You're going to kill Dean?"

Robbie stood up on the chair, but didn't look at Sam. "I never said that. But I am going to teach Dean a lesson."

"What lesson is that?"

"Sorry, Sam—can't tell you that."

"Let me guess…you're going to kill me? Make Dean watch?"

Robbie didn't say anything as he began to saw through a portion of the beam but Sam knew he was right in his guess. It was the one true way to hurt Dean, really cut him to the core. If you went after his baby brother and made him watch, made him unable to do anything about it, it would haunt Dean for the rest of his life and it would scar more than any injury you could inflict on the older hunter. Any idiot could see that and they usually did, which never bode well for Sam.

Robbie finished with his cut, then moved the chair over a few feet and began the process all over again. He did this two more times before placing the jigsaw back in his bag. Before he closed the bag, he pulled out a small notepad and a pen. Then, grabbing the chair and Sam's gun from the table, he sat in front of Sam and stared at him.

"You know I would tell you to take a picture, but that seems a little childish as this point." Sam smirked.

Robbie grinned. "We still got some time to kill. What do you say we play a little game, Sam?"

"What kind of game?"

Robbie shrugged. "The rules are simple enough: I ask you a question and you answer it truthfully."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Why don't you piss off?"

Robbie sighed. "Let me put it this way—you don't play along and I'll shoot Dean as soon as he walks through that door and then I'll shoot you."

"You're going to kill me anyway, so what difference does it make?"

"You do what I say and you save your brother."

Sam didn't believe Robbie for a second, but really what did he have to lose? Maybe Robbie was telling the truth when he said he wouldn't kill Dean. If Sam could at least save his brother from the psycho, then he would be happy. That's not saying Dean was going to be happy but Dean would have to get over it. It was all part of the unwritten code for being brothers—you're always ready and willing to sacrifice yourself for the other—and if you both somehow survived, then that entitled the other to kick your ass.

"Fine," Sam muttered.

"Good." Robbie beamed as he hit himself on the thigh and stood up. "Tell me about a time when you and Dean were apart."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Rule number three, Sam: you don't get to answer the questions with a question."

Sam let out a loud sigh. "When I went to Stanford."

Robbie scribbled in his notebook. "How long were you gone?"

"Two years."

"You left Dean alone for two years?"

"I went to college—I never left Dean."

"That's not what it sounds like to me." Robbie tapped his chin with the nuzzle of the gun and Sam had the fleeting hope the deranged man would shoot himself. "What was your favorite class at school?"

Sam gave a small shrug. "I don't know…Philosophy, I guess."

"Interesting. Did you have any friends?"

"Of course I did."

"What were their names?"

"Why the hell would I tell you that?"

"What did I say about questions, Sam?" Robbie stopped pacing long enough to fix Sam with a glare. "Just give me a couple of names."

_If this wasn't getting weird before, it certainly is now…_ "Brandon and Michelle."

"Did you have a favorite place you liked to hang out?"

"A bar a couple of blocks away from the campus—Harry's."

"Did you have any nicknames at school?"

Sam tried not to let his irritation show on his face. He didn't understand why Robbie was asking these question, why he was even wasting his time with them. "My friends would call me Stilts."

"Who's your favorite band?"

"I don't know—I like a lot of them."

"Pick one."

"Matchbox Twenty, I guess."

Robbie once again wrote in his notebook. "What's your favorite food?"

"Anything Italian—is that specific enough for you?" Sam bit off.

Robbie ignored him. "Shoe size?"

"What the—?" Sam stopped as Robbie glared at him again. "Twelve."

"You have a computer, right?"

"Yes."

"What's your password?"

"Why, you plan on taking it as soon as you kill me?"

"Sam, I don't think you quite understand the rules of the game, here." Robbie walked over to him and backhanded Sam across the face. Sam's head jerked back from the impact and he tasted blood. "Now, I will ask you again—what is your password."

"Jessilee," Sam said softly.

"Cute." Robbie smirked. "Old girlfriend?"

"Shut up," Sam ground out between clenched teeth.

Robbie tilted his head to the side. "Ooh, did I hit a sore spot?"

Sam didn't say anything, just continued to glare at Robbie. No way was he going to tell this asshole about Jessica—he would not tarnish her memory like that, no matter what Robbie threatened him with. Dean would understand—Dean always understood when it came to Sam and Jessica.

"Do you have any scars?"

"I have a lot of scars. You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"Any scars that Dean doesn't know about, maybe?"

"There's one on my left arm."

"How did you get it?"

"I burned myself when I was getting something out of the oven when I was at Stanford." That at least wasn't a lie. He'd burned his arm after he'd gotten some cookies out of the oven for Jess and the scar was a faint reminder of one of the good times he'd shared with her.

Robbie shut the notebook with a snap and tossed on top of the small table. "Well, I think that about does it."

"You mind telling me what all of that was for?"

Robbie smiled. "It's called knowing your enemy better than you know yourself."

"So, I'm your enemy?"

Robbie leveled his gaze at Sam. "You've always been my enemy, Sam."

"At least I know where I stand," Sam muttered.

"I got something exciting for us planned when Dean gets here, Sam," Robbie went on as if he didn't hear Sam. "I can guarantee it's going to be fun all around."

"What are you going to do?"

"I told you I couldn't reveal the punch line, Sam." He dug around in his bag, until he found a small Zip-lock baggie. Pulling it out, he slowly approached the younger Winchester. "Now, I think you should rest up before big brother arrives, don't you."

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Robbie open the bag and pull out a small white cloth. Catching a faint whiff of it, Sam knew instantly what was on the cloth—chloroform. Robbie walked behind him as Sam began to struggle in his chair. He knew he wouldn't be getting away from the sedative and Robbie laughed as Sam strained against the bonds.

Robbie brought the rag across Sam's nose and mouth and held it firmly in place as Sam thrashed around wildly. "You can fight it all you want Sam, but I will get what I want."

Sam fought as long as he could not to take a breath of the sweet smelling sedative, but there was only so long he could fight it. Finally, unable to deprive his lungs the air they so desperately needed, he took in a lungful of the chloroform. His vision became bleary and he felt lightheaded as the drug began to take effect.

"That's it, Sam," Robbie said softly. "One more breath and this will all be over."

_I'm so sorry, Dean…_Sam took a final breath and his world was shrouded in darkness.

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Dean couldn't stop the slight unease that crept up his bones as he pulled up to the Eclipse. It wasn't that late in the night, but even with the full moon above, the decrepit building seemed even more ominous than it did the last time he'd been there. Maybe it was the fact he didn't know what awaited him in there. When he and Sam came a couple of days ago, he knew what to expect since it was a spirit haunting the place. With Robbie in there with his younger brother in his clutches, Dean had to go back with his original sentiment that people were crazy. He would much rather face off with an angry spirit right now than a stark-raving lunatic.

The entire drive to the Eclipse, Dean couldn't help but question himself and his ability to protect his younger brother. Wasn't that his job, what he was supposed to do, his entire reason for living? What more did he have if he couldn't safeguard the one person who gave his life meaning? What did that say for the rest of the innocents he vowed to protect and keep safe?

What if this was it? What if Robbie finally turned to fruition what so many demons and monsters had tried many times over? What if an unhinged psychopath was the one to finally do Sam in? How could Dean live with that? How could he live with the fact that Sam was right all along and he did nothing to allay his brother's fears. Now, because of his stupidity and stubbornness Sam was going to be the one to pay for Dean's mistake.

_Don't think like that, Dean. You're going to get Sam out of this and then you're going to make sure Robbie pays for what he's done. Not only for Sam, but for Matthew as well. Now get your ass in gear and quit brooding, Winchester!_

Reaching over into the glove compartment, Dean pulled out his treasured Desert Eagle .45 and after making sure it was properly loaded, stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. He also pulled out a small flashlight and after testing it to make sure it shone brightly, he got out of the Impala and walked back to the trunk. As he popped it, he stood there staring at the cache of weapons. He knew he couldn't bring them because Sam would never let Dean give Robbie the justice he totally deserved. Sam wouldn't let Dean kill the clerk no matter how angry they may be with him.

He grabbed a large coil of rope and stuffed it into the small canvas bag. He closed the trunk softly and after taking a deep breath, made his trek towards the old hotel.

"Just hold on, Sammy…I'm coming."

After making his way through the fence, Dean walked towards the hotel, his senses on high alert. An owl hooted and Dean looked up in the canopy of trees to see the nocturnal animal watching him from his perch. "What the hell are you looking at, Hedwig?"

_Okay, how the hell do I know the owl from Harry Potter?_

The owl hooted again and Dean shook his head as he cautiously opened the door and entered. Quiet surrounded him and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Dean never liked the quiet, but then again he wasn't expecting Robbie to be throwing a party for him to announce his location. He was starting to learn that maybe the clerk wasn't as stupid as he appeared to be.

"All right…morgue…where's the damn morgue?"

Taking a few steps forward, Dean frowned as the floor began to creak under his weight but then had to laugh at himself. The hotel was several decades old and the floors were all hardwood. It wasn't completely odd that they would be creaking. Shaking himself, he took another step forward and his nerves shot to high alert as the floor actually shifted under him. Before he could get to safe ground, he felt the wood give under his weight.

"Son of a—" Dean's words were cut off as he fell through the floor. For a brief instant he felt as if he were flying but reality came back to him as he crashed to the ground, debris raining down on him from above. Coughing, Dean pushed himself through the haze of pain threatening to over take him and glanced around the room he'd fallen through as he thrust a couple of the beams off of him.

_I guess I found the morgue…or more like the morgue found me…_

His heart caught in his throat as he saw his brother sitting in a chair across the room. Through his fuzzy vision, he couldn't tell if Sam was tied up or not, but he could see his sibling wasn't moving.

"Sam…" Dean said weakly.

"Sorry, Dean. Sam's taking a little nap right now."

Dean looked up to see Robbie standing behind him, a cruel smile on his face but that wasn't what worried the elder hunter. What did worry him was what said psycho was holding in his hands.

"I think it's time for you to take a nap as well, Dean. Then you, Sam, and I can have a nice little chat."

Without warning, Robbie swung the board at Dean's head like a baseball bat. As the swing connected with his head, for a brief instant Dean saw stars and then nothing else.

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Robbie's smile widened as he looked down at the fallen hunter at his feet. He never wanted it to come to this, but his hand had been forced. If only Dean would have given up and allowed Robbie to take Sam's place, then none of this would be happening. So, really this was all Dean's fault.

Yep, Sam's death was going to be Dean's fault. It was the best punishment Robbie could inflict on the older man and it seemed fitting really. Besides that, it may even benefit Robbie in the long run. Maybe Dean would get so desperate for companionship that he would greet Robbie with open arms. The troubled young man knew it wouldn't be immediate, but eventually Dean would see things his way.

Kicking the fallen brother in the side, Robbie didn't see how this couldn't work in his favor. Sam was going to die—it was as simple as that. Truth be told, Robbie was never going to let him go in the first place. Sam would always come between him and Dean and Robbie just couldn't deal with the younger brother. He wasn't willing to risk his future that way.

Nope, it had to be done like this. Robbie needed to see for himself if Dean and Sam were really meant to be brothers or if he'd been right about them all along.

"It's time for the real games to begin…"


	12. Chapter 12

**I know what you're thinking…another update in just a few days time??? I really couldn't leave you guys hanging after that cliffie I left you with. Besides, Robbie really wanted to play and he wouldn't leave me alone until I got this chapter written. (Pesky little psycho, if you ask me…) **

**I do have a warning for this chapter and it's only because one of my betas, Sojourner, told me I should include it. Have a breathing apparatus nearby (i.e. oxygen mask, brown paper sack, etc.) She told me she had to catch her breath several times, so she thought it was only fair to warn you guys… **

**Thank you so much for the reviews so far, everyone! This story has really taken on a life of its own and I have all of you to thank for that. Just so you know, there is only one chapter left of this puppy…sad sigh **

**My heartfelt thanks and gratitude go out to my two awesome betas…Bayre and Sojourner. I really don't know what I would do if it weren't for the two of you! **

**Please let me know what you think and if this chapter was a homerun or a swing and a miss! **

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Dean Winchester had heard many drum solos in his life, but nothing compared to the cacophony beating in his skull right now. It was as if the drummer had taken up residence in the center of his head and was giving it all he had and for a fleeting moment Dean swore he could make out the beats of Led Zeppelin's _Black Dog_.

_That's crazy Winchester…no way in hell is John Bonham's spirit giving you a solo concert._

Shaking his head slightly to stop the music, Dean winced as sharp pains lanced through his skull. His head felt like it weighed at least a ton and for the life of him, he was having a hard time raising it up. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed through the pain, trying his best to quell the nausea threatening to overtake him.

He wanted nothing more than to cradle his head in his hands, but he found that was impossible, seeing as how they were stuck behind him. Barely opening his eyes, he saw that he was sitting in a chair, his hands bound tightly behind him. _What the hell…_

Testing the strength of the ropes, he found they wouldn't budge. _Okay, still doesn't explain how I got here…_

Then it hit Dean like the proverbial ton of bricks. He'd crashed through the floor down into the morgue. He'd found Sam unconscious in a chair and then nothing. _SAM!_

Dean's eyes widened as he sought out his younger brother, hoping that he was still in the room with him. He could feel the younger man's presence, and right now it was so strong that it almost threatened to drown Dean.

"Sam?" Dean looked over at the slumped form of the younger Winchester and waited with bated breath, hoping his brother would hear him. But Sam remained motionless, oblivious to the world around him.

"Sam?" Dean called louder this time and his heart nearly leapt into his throat when he got a reaction out of Sam.

Sam jerked his head up and Dean could see he was trying to clear the fuzziness in his brain, as his face took on a look of utter confusion. "Dean?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, dude, it's me." Dean let out a small chuckle. "How are you doing, kid?"

"Head hurts…feels fuzzy."

"Were you hit? Drugged?"

"Drugged." Sam shook his head. "Chloroform. What about you, Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, dude. Nothing a good stiff drink won't cure."

"Where's Robbie?" Dean didn't miss the slight fear in Sam's voice as the younger man looked around the morgue.

"Not sure. Have you been tied up down here the entire time?"

"Pretty much. I tried to get away once, but Robbie stopped me before I could."

"You're getting rusty in your old age, kiddo."

"Bite me, Dean." Then Sam smirked. "Looks like I can say the same for you."

"Hey, I fell through the floor." Dean looked up above him and indicated the gaping hole. "I totally had things under control."

A small smile tugged at Sam's lips. "Right, a real bang-up rescue mission you got going on here."

"Well, if you would stop getting kidnapped by deranged humans, I wouldn't have to keep rescuing you."

"And if you would quit attracting psychos, I wouldn't constantly be put in this situation."

"Sure, blame it on me." Dean flashed Sam a small smile. "Really, it's great to see you again, Sammy."

"You too, Dean." He tried to sit up into a more comfortable position. "Listen, Dean, I don't know what Robbie's planning but I can tell you he's completely nuts right now. I'm afraid anything will set him off at this point. He was asking me some pretty weird questions earlier."

Dean frowned. "What kind of questions?"

Sam was about to answer when the door to the room opened with a loud creak. Both brothers looked up as Robbie walked into the room.

"Oh, I see that you're awake." Robbie walked to the table and set down a small bag. Reaching into it, he pulled out a handkerchief and walked over to Sam. "Now, Sam…you weren't about to tell Dean the fun games I had planned for us, were you?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

Robbie smiled a cold, cruel smile. "Yeah, I don't believe that for a second." Standing behind Sam, he stuffed the cloth into Sam's mouth and tied it tightly. "There, that's much better."

"You leave him the hell alone, you hear me?" Dean yelled, pulling against his restraints. No way was he going to sit by quietly while this psycho played out his sick fantasy on Sam.

Robbie cocked his head to the side and pulled out the large hunting knife from the waistband of his pants. Keeping his eyes on Dean the entire time, Robbie grabbed a handful of Sam's hair and wrenched his head back, while gently caressing his neck with the blade of the knife. "You see that, Sam? I don't think Dean likes it when I do this."

Dean saw Sam's Adam's apple bob up and down against the blade of the knife and the thin trickle of blood that oozed from the small cut.

"Get away from him, you bastard!" Dean's feral scream echoed all around the room. He bucked wildly in his chair, trying his best to break free. He needed to get loose, get to Sam before Robbie could kill his brother. He knew Robbie wanted to kill Sam, he could see it in the crazy clerk's eyes. "It's me you're pissed at, not Sam!"

Robbie chuckled. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, Dean." He kept the blade at Sam's throat for a few seconds longer, then pulled it away. "But I'm not ready to end it yet. Like I said, I have a game for us to play and it would be a shame for all this hard work to go to waste."

"Oh, yeah…a real shame," Dean muttered in disgust.

Robbie ignored him as he walked back over to his bag. "I really think you're going to enjoy this game, Dean." Reaching into the sack, he pulled out an old revolver and caressed it lovingly. Looking up at Dean, he said, "See, I'm not sure you really know Sam as well as you think you do and I'm going to prove it to you."

"Yeah, and how's that?"

Robbie shrugged. "Simple—I'm going to ask you a question about your brother."

"Sounds simple enough." As soon as the words were out of Dean's mouth, he knew it couldn't be that simple. Nothing in their life ever was.

Robbie chuckled. "You're only going to wish it was." He emptied all the bullets from the revolver and then held one up so Dean could see it. "Every question you get right gets you and Sam closer to getting out of this alive."

"And if I get them wrong?"

Robbie put the bullet into the chamber and spun it before smiling at Dean. "Every time you get it wrong, I take a shot at your brother."

Dean's eyes widened and he saw Sam straighten up in his chair. He didn't even have to look at his brother's face to know his sibling was freaked. Hell, Dean was just as freaked, but somehow he managed to keep the fear out of his voice. "This is one game you're going to lose, Robbie."

"I wouldn't count all your eggs just yet, Dean."

"What, is that some kind of backwoods redneck saying?"

"Funny, Dean."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, I am pretty funny."

"Let's see if you'll be laughing when you cause your brother's death."

Dean sobered up and glared at the clerk as Robbie reached into the bag and pulled out yet another handkerchief. "Now, to make sure you and Sam don't have some secret code or whatever, I'm going to cover up your eyes." Walking behind Dean, he put the cloth over the older man's eyes and tied it tightly behind Dean's head.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. He didn't like this at all—he wanted to be able to see Sam the entire time, to reassure his little brother that he was going to find a way to get them out of this mess. Dean began to rub against the ropes, seeing if he could work any slack. He could hear Sam grunting softly and from the sound of it, Sam was trying his best to hold it all together. _Come on, Sammy…stick with me here. I'm not going to let him kill you. I'm going to protect you little brother, please believe that._

"There—now we can begin." Robbie stepped back and smiled as he looked at his two captives. Picking up the revolver, the clerk walked over to Sam. "Like I said, Dean, I'm gonna ask you some questions. You get them right, Sam lives and if you get them wrong, then Sam dies."

"Yeah, yeah—I got the rules the first time you explained them," Dean bit off. Giving up on attempting to build some slack in the ropes, Dean tried to keep the smile off his face as he remembered the small pocket knife in his back pocket. Carefully reaching down in his pocket, he tried not to let Robbie notice what he was doing.

"You mind telling me what the point of all this is?"

Easy—I'm going to prove you don't know you're brother as well as you think you do. I'm going to show you that you and Sam aren't meant to be brother."

Dean huffed. "You're one sick puppy, you know that?"

"Maybe I am, Dean." Robbie smiled as he glanced at Sam. "You ready, Sam?"

Dean heard Sam grunt through the rag and could only imagine the look his brother was giving the psychotic clerk. If there was anyone who could send a message across with their eyes, it was Sam.

"Not sure what exactly you said there, but I think you were giving me the okay." He looked over at Dean. "What about you, Dean?"

"Get on with it already."

Robbie nodded. "Now, just to show you how the game's played, I'm gonna ask you a simple question first: where did Sam go when he left you?"

Dean didn't hesitate. "Stanford."

"Very good, Dean. How long was Sam gone?"

Dean sighed. "Two years—are they really gonna be this easy?"

Robbie chuckled. "Just trying to build up your confidence there, Dean. But you want a hard question? Fine, I can do that. What was Sam's favorite class?"

Dean lost his grip on the knife as a cold fear wrapped around his heart. He honestly could say he had no idea what Sam's favorite subject was at Stanford. Sure, they'd spoken about Sam's time there a couple of times, but never got that detailed into it. _Come on, Dean…think! History? Algebra? Biology? _

"Literature," Dean finally answered.

Robbie hissed as he took in a deep breath. "Sorry, Dean—the answer we were looking for was Philosophy."

Dean felt a cold wave wash over him as he heard Robbie cock the gun, and his brother's panicked breaths from across the room. "No, Robbie! Don't do it! Sammy!"

Dean's cries went unanswered as the clerk pulled the trigger. He literally felt like sobbing as the hollow click on the gun echoed throughout the room. _Sam's okay…Sammy's still alive!_

"You still with us, Dean?" Robbie asked, coyly. "Because I gotta say, Sam looks like he's about to pass out over here."

"You bastard," Dean growled, trying to mask the fact his heart was beating a spastic and unsteady staccato in his chest.

"Now that you know what happens when you answer wrong, I bet you'll do everything to get them right now, huh Dean?" Robbie spun the chamber again. "Let's move on to the next question."

Dean didn't say anything as he continued to dig for his pocket knife. Finally his hand, grasped around it and he pulled it up between his fingers as Robbie asked his next question.

"What was Sam's nickname at school?"

_How the hell would I know that?_ "I don't know…Stretch?"

"Wrong again." Robbie didn't even give Dean time to protest before he cocked the gun and fired.

Empty click.

Dean could only imagine the horror on Sam's face and he had to admit it, the thought alone scared the shit out of him.

"Luck must really be on your side, Dean. Of course, luck can only be with you for so long."

"I swear to God I'm going to kill you."

Robbie chuckled. "Is that before or after little brother's brains are splattered all over the place?" Dean heard Robbie take a few steps around the room. "You see, Sammy…Dean thinks he's going to find a way to get you out of this. Little does he know, the game keeps going until I say it ends. And when do you think that's going to be?"

Sam grunted in frustration.

Robbie nodded. "That's right, Sam. The game ends when you die." Again, Robbie turned the chamber and snapped it back into place. "Next question: What is Sam's password for his computer?"

As Dean fingered the blade open on the knife, he couldn't stop the laugh bubbling from his chest. "Easy—Jessilee." He then shook his head. "You're gonna have to do better than that, Norman."

Robbie didn't say anything as he cocked the revolver and took another shot at Sam.

"You son of a bitch! I got that right!" Dean thrashed around in his chair, wishing he could get his hands around the deranged man's throat, especially when he heard the sob coming from his little brother.

"Yes, you did get that right, Dean, but you also pissed me off." Dean heard rapid footsteps, as if Robbie was pacing in front of him. "Maybe you're not getting the picture here—my game, my rules. Why don't you ask Sam what happens when you don't follow my rules? Or better yet, why don't I show you what happens."

Robbie stepped in front of Sam and backhanded him, causing the younger man to groan in pain.

"You get your hands off of my brother, you piece of shit!"

"Piss me off again, Dean, and I really do shoot Sammy."

Dean ignored him and focused his attention on Sam. "Sammy, you all right?"

Sam grunted in response and it was good enough for Dean. Maneuvering the knife around in his hands, Dean pressed the blade against the ropes and began to saw through, trying his best to stay quiet. He had to get loose, now more than ever. Sam was right when he told Dean Robbie was losing it very quickly.

"Does Sam have any scars?"

"Sam has a lot of scars." Dean felt a small twinge up hope as he felt the ropes around his wrists begin to fray.

"What about the one on his left arm?"

"What about it?"

"Where did he get it, Dean?"

_Scar on his left arm...Where the hell did he get the scar on his left arm?_ All of a sudden, it hit Dean what Robbie was doing. He was purposely asking questions Dean wouldn't know the answers to. He was throwing the two years they were apart back in his face, knowing there was no way in the world Dean would know all the answers. _You slimy little bastard…you had this planned the entire time._

"You think you're clever, don't you Robbie?"

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

"You're asking me questions I wouldn't know a damn thing about. You had this game rigged from the first minute."

"Like I said, Dean—it's my game."

"Yeah, well your game sucks." Dean hid his smile as the ropes snapped, but he managed to hold on to them so they wouldn't fall to the floor and alert Robbie.

"Do you know the answer or not, Dean?"

"Doesn't matter how I answer it, does it? You're gonna do whatever the hell you want anyway."

Sam grunted and Dean could only imagine the exasperated look on his brother's face. _Just hang in there, Sammy…I'm working on a way to get us out of here._

"You're right about that, Dean. Humor me here, will you?"

"What was the question again?"

Robbie sighed. "Where did Sam get the scar on his left arm?"

Dean figured he had nothing left to lose. A voice in his head was screaming at him that their luck was up. He didn't know how he knew it, but the next shot from the gun would be the fatal shot for Sam. "Hunting accident."

Dean knew as soon as the answer was out of his mouth, it was wrong. He knew every single hunting scar Sam had, memorized every single one of them, and had tended to every one of them. He needed to catch Robbie by surprise, though, and this was the best way to do it.

As soon as Dean heard the revolver being cocked, he sprung into action. Tearing off his blindfold, Dean launched himself at the troubled man, jerking Robbie's arm up just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet lodged itself into the ceiling as Dean and Robbie fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

"You can't do this!" Robbie screeched as Dean tried to wrestle the gun from him.

"Watch me, you little bastard," Dean ground out as he banged Robbie's hand against the floor repeatedly. Finally the gun fell from his grasp, and Dean pushed it away.

"You've ruined everything, Dean! Don't you see that?"

Dean shook his head. "You messed with the wrong brother when you went after Sammy, Robbie." Grabbing the clerk by his jacket, Dean shook him once before delivering a solid right hook to his jaw. Robbie's head jerked back and he went limp in Dean's grasp.

"You're nothing but a waste of space, Robbie." Dean threw him to the ground and rushed over to Sam who was looking at him with wide eyes. Dean patted his brother's cheek and removed the gag from his mouth. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam nodded shakily and looked down at Robbie's unconscious body. "Yeah, Dean," he answered hoarsely.

If Dean wasn't so exhausted, he would have punched Sam right there on the spot. He knew Sam wasn't okay—far from it, as a matter of fact. His brother's face was covered in bruises and cuts and he could see Sam was visibly shaken from everything that had happened to him in the past few hours. Sam was barely holding it together and any idiot would be able to see that.

Walking back to his chair, Dean picked up the pocket knife he'd discarded and cut the ropes around Sam's wrists and ankles. Helping his brother out of the chair, Dean was caught off balance as Sam violently pushed past him.

"You're not okay, Sammy." Dean could see that by the way Sam quickly put distance between himself and Robbie, even though the clerk was lying unconscious on the floor. "So, don't stand there and pretend that you are."

"What do you want me to say, Dean? Huh?" Sam let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I just had some psycho playing a game with my life! The same psycho that I'd been warning you about for days now!"

Dean held out a placating hand. "I know that, Sammy, and I'm sorry, okay?"

Sam shook his head vehemently. "No, Dean—it's not okay. You should have listened to me! You should have trusted me!"

Dean let out a growl as he kicked a small metal trashcan across the room. Dean instantly regretted the action as the loud sounds echoed throughout the room, causing Sam to jump and retreat further away from him. "Sammy, you have to believe that I'm sorry, okay? I never wanted this to happen to you, I swear to God."

Sam was silent before he finally asked, "Is he going to be okay?" He nodded towards Robbie's prone form.

Dean sighed—Sam was closing him off and it cut into Dean worse than a knife ever could. Sam was pissed at him now and the elder Winchester was going to have to deal with that—but later. He wanted nothing more than to get Sam out of the hotel, and back into their own room. "You're kidding me—after all that he did to you and you want to know if he's okay?"

Sam shrugged.

_Typical Sammy…_ "Yeah Sammy, he's going to be fine. I managed to hold back."

Sam chuckled and instantly winced in pain.

The left side of Robbie's face was already forming a large purple bruise and his busted lip was still bleeding.

"What are we going to do with him?"

Dean smiled and arched a brow. Instead of answering Sam, he reached down and grabbed Robbie under his arms. Pulling the unconscious clerk into the chair Sam had just vacated, Dean nodded his head towards his green duffel bag sitting where he'd fallen through earlier. "Grab the rope from in there, will ya?"

Sam nodded and did as his brother asked. Handing the coil of rope to Dean, he stepped back and watched silently as Dean made quick work of tying Robbie securely to the chair. Just as Dean finished the last knot Robbie started to come around.

"Wha—what the hell?" Robbie's eyes widened as he saw the two Winchesters towering above him.

"You only wish this was Hell, Robbie," Dean said, a malevolent glint in his eyes.

Robbie instantly shrunk back against the chair. "What are you going to do with me?"

Dean smiled and nodded towards Sam. "That really depends on what Sam says. You better hope he's feeling slightly more compassionate than I am at the moment."

Robbie turned pleading eyes on Sam. "Please, don't kill me. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that I hurt you Sam, but please don't kill me."

Sam remained silent for a couple of tense minutes and finally shrugged a shoulder. "I'm not going to kill you, Robbie, because if I do that, I'm no better than you are."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!"

Sam shook his head. "Don't thank me yet, Robbie, because I'm going to make sure you pay for what you've done. Not so much for me, but for Matthew."

Robbie opened his mouth to argue, but Dean stopped him. "Found an interesting thing when I went to your house, Norman." The elder Winchester glared at him. "You keeping Matthew around as a souvenir or something? You couldn't stand for him to be away from you, is that it?"

Robbie shook his head. "I couldn't let him leave me."

"He was never yours!" Dean roared. He leaned down into the chair, his face mere inches from Robbie's. "His family deserved to know what happened to him. You at least owed that to them."

"He—he was my—my family," Robbie stuttered quietly.

"He never was your family, Robbie." Sam shook his head sadly.

"You were a selfish bastard, Robbie. What gave you the right to decide when Matthew's life had to end? Who gave you the right to mess with his life?" Dean glanced behind him to look at his brother. "With Sammy's life?"

Robbie began to sob. "I just wanted a brother."

"Yeah, well you went about the wrong way of doing that." Dean pushed away from the chair and rubbed a hand across his face. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to throttle Robbie and if Sam wasn't there, Dean wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from doing just that.

"So, are you going to turn me over to the police?" Robbie asked his voice barely audible.

Dean shrugged. "Eventually. But first…"

Robbie looked up at him, tears in his eyes.

Dean smiled. "I think you need to stay the night in here, think about what you've done."

Robbie shook his head, a panicked look settling in his eyes. "No, please! Please don't make me stay in here! Call the police! I'll turn myself in!"

"Aw, what's the matter, Robbie? You afraid of some ghosts?" Dean mocked.

Robbie struggled in the chair. "Please, you can't do this to me!"

Dean ignored him and looked back at this brother, who looked like he was ready to bolt at any second. "You ready, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah." Walking towards the door, Sam turned his head to glance at Dean. "Can you get my gun for me, Dean?"

"Sure thing, Sammy."

Sam nodded his thanks and disappeared out the door.

"Don't worry, Robbie. We'll call the police sometime tomorrow and let them know where they can find you." Dean patted the clerk's shoulder and grabbed his small bag from the floor. Then, walking over to the small table, he retrieved Sam's 9mm and the large hunting knife Robbie had taken.

"You can't do this to me, you hear me?" Robbie shouted, but the panic was gone from his voice. Instead, it was nothing but anger. "You can't leave me like this! I'll find you! Don't think for a second that this is over!"

"Yeah, yeah—sing a new song, why don't you?"

"Sam is never going to be safe, Dean! You think I can't find him again?"

Dean stopped walking and turned to fix Robbie with a piercing glare. "I better never see you around my brother, because I can guarantee you, next time there won't be anyone or anything to stop me from killing you."

Robbie smiled cruelly and chuckled. "You're both going to pay!"

"Whatever." Dean shut the door behind him and smiled to himself as Robbie's shouts were muted out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Well, guys…here it is! The final chapter…sniffles **

**I just want to thank every one of you from the bottom of my heart. I have been writing for a while now, but you have made this feel like such a unique experience for me and I am so grateful for that. This story has been so much fun for me to create and I am so happy that you have joined me and enjoyed it. **

**I have to give a big shout-out to Phoenix, because without her awesome prompt, this story never would have been possible. So, thank you so much Phoenix…you rock! **

**A big, colossal thanks to my two awesome betas, Bayre and Sojourner. I love you guys so much and I truly do appreciate everything you have done for me and the support you have offered.**

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Dean sighed as he unlocked the door to their motel room. His younger brother hadn't said a word to him since they'd left the Eclipse. Dean figured it had to do with a couple of things. For one, he knew Sam was freaked—hell, anyone in Sam's position would have already completely lost it, so he guessed he should be grateful Sam was still functioning. Dean could only imagine what Robbie's twisted game did to Sam's head and when he thought about it, it made red hot anger course through his body.

The elder Winchester also knew Sam was pissed at him and really, he couldn't blame the kid. Dean was pissed at himself as well. Though Sam was reluctant to admit it, Dean knew the younger man depended on him to keep him safe, to look out for him. Hell, Sam trusted him completely with his life and Dean was afraid he'd let his brother down for good this time. Sam had tried to warn him for days now about Robbie and Dean wouldn't listen, he wouldn't trust what his brother was trying to tell him, to warn him about.

_Oh, yeah, Dean…you've definitely got yourself into a pickle this time…_

Sighing again, he threw his leather jacket on the bed and sat down on the edge. Rubbing a hand over his face, he couldn't help thinking about what Robbie said before he left. Did Dean do the right thing by leaving Robbie there? Should he have gone against his number one rule and killed the psychotic clerk, even though the loony was human? Could he have forgiven himself for that, convinced himself that he'd done the right thing and that he was protecting Sam when he did it?

Dean knew the answer without really thinking about it. He couldn't have killed Robbie even though every one of his nerves was screaming at him to do just that. Why not? The psycho had already killed once and he was sure as hell going to kill Sam. Though at the time Robbie was screaming at them, the clerk's threats were replaying in Dean's head now. _"You can't leave me like this! I'll find you! Don't think for a second that this is over… Sam is never going to be safe, Dean! You think I can't find him again?"_

The hunter had seen the look of pure anger in the clerk's eyes, the rage that was threatening to boil over. Was Robbie being truthful in his threats? Would Sam ever be safe from him? Could Dean honestly live with himself if Robbie managed to come after Sam again?

_No…it's not going to happen, Winchester! You can keep Sam safe. You've always kept Sam safe…why does that stop now? Why is now any different than before?_

_It's not_, Dean assured himself. But somehow the voice did little to calm his troubled thoughts. All the what-ifs were waging a war inside his head: What if he couldn't keep Sam safe? What if Sam found he could never trust Dean again? What if Robbie actually managed to kill Sam? What if Dean was too late to stop it from happening?

"Are you okay over there?"

Dean jerked as Sam's voice cut through his thoughts. Glancing over at his younger brother, he could see Sam was watching him, concern evident on his face.

Dean flashed Sam a small smile. "Yeah, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."

Sam nodded and went back to rummaging through his duffel bag. Dean wasn't entirely sure what his sibling was looking for, but he'd been at it for five minutes now. Maybe it was just to keep busy. Maybe Sam was scared to actually stop doing something for fear the events of the past few hours would come crashing down on him.

"Are you okay?"

Sam looked up from his bag and gave Dean a stiff nod. "I'm fine, Dean."

The elder Winchester let out a deep sigh. He knew that was going to be Sam's answer even before he asked the question. "How about you try to answer that question again without lying through your ass."

Sam rolled his eyes and threw down the shirt he was clutching. "Dean, you already know the answer to that. You only asked me not even an hour ago, so why even bring it up again?"

"Because I want you to talk to me, Sammy. I don't want you to close me out."

"Oh, like you do to me?"

"That's different."

"How?" Sam asked incredulously.

"It just is."

"What the hell ever." Sam picked up the shirt and stubbornly stuffed it into his bag.

"Look, Sam…I get it, okay? You're pissed at me and I don't blame you. But I will not sit here and watch this eat at you. I've gotta make sure _you're_ okay and that _we're _okay."

"I'm not okay, Dean!" Sam violently shoved the bag off his bed. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm not okay!"

"Then talk to me about it!" Dean yelled, his voice matching Sam's.

Sam stared at Dean before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he sank down onto his bed, putting his head in his hands. Dean wanted to reach out to reassure Sam, but he was afraid it would set him off again. Instead, he sat quietly waiting for Sam to regain his composure.

"I'm afraid, Dean." Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked up at Sam and Dean felt his stomach clench as tears threatened to spill over on Sam's face. Sam let out a sardonic chuckle. "Does that make me sound too much like a girl?"

Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy—it makes you sound human."

Sam looked at his brother in confusion. "You're kidding me. You're not about to rib me for this. I mean, I'm giving you a perfect opportunity here."

Dean got up from his bed and went over to sit next to Sam. "You'll give me plenty of other opportunities to make fun of you, but not right now, Sammy. I mean, I'm surprised you're managing to hold it all together right now."

"I actually thought I was going to die, Dean. I mean, for the first time in my life, after all we do on a daily basis, I thought I was going to die. I thought I'd never get the chance to tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me, sacrificed for me. That right there was what scared me the most."

"Sam, what Robbie did to you—it was horrible. There's just no other way to say it. I mean, I can't even begin to pretend I know what that did to you."

"It messed you up too, Dean. You can't sit there and tell me it didn't."

"You're damn right it did. Every time I heard that gun go off, I didn't know if it was going to be the fatal shot or not. I felt like I couldn't breathe and even after I knew you were okay, I don't think I still wanted to believe it, because it meant I was going to have to go through that fear again."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Dammit, Sam—don't apologize to me," Dean barked out. When Sam looked at him in surprise, Dean softened his voice. "You have nothing to apologize for, Sammy. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me."

"Dean—"

Dean shook his head. "Don't, Sammy. You've already called me out on it. I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me about Robbie. I should have trusted you enough to know you knew what you were talking about. I should have trusted your instincts, and because I didn't, I almost got you killed."

"I didn't mean what I said, Dean. I never should have lashed out at you like that. I was just angry at the whole thing and I attacked the person closest to me."

"No, Sam, you were right." Dean shrugged. "Maybe I did want to believe the best in Robbie. I mean, I never wanted to think there was something off with him and I guess it was because I saw a little of myself in him."

"What do you mean?"

"Robbie was a loner—he was just looking for someone. He was tired of being alone."

"Dean, that's not you."

Dean smiled softly. "Maybe not right now, but it was at one time. When you went to Stanford, I felt alone. For the first time in my life, I was truly alone. I mean, I had Dad and everything, but it wasn't the same without you here with me."

"Dean, I—"

Dean held up a hand. "Don't apologize to me, Sam. I'm not saying any of this to make you feel bad. I'm just telling you how it was for me. When you left, I tried to fill in that void with hunts, any kind of distraction I could get, but it was never enough. I still didn't have my family…I didn't have…you."

Dean paused for a moment, startled by how everything poured out of him like an open wound. He barked out a laugh to lighten the heaviness that settled on the room. "So, see, maybe that's why I refused to believe Robbie was bad news. But you have to believe me, Sammy, I would never intentionally hurt you like that."

"I know you wouldn't, Dean."

"Your trust means everything to me and if I don't have that…"

…_then I don't have anything. I would rather end my life right now than go on without your trust._

Sam swallowed hard and for a second, Dean was scared of what his little brother might say. Instead, Sam looked at him with a small smile.

"You haven't lost my trust, Dean. I've still got your back no matter what, but I can't keep going on like this if I don't know that you're constantly in my corner."

"Always, Sammy."

Sam nodded. "Good." Then he flashed Dean a genuine smile. "So, what exactly were you going to do with Robbie?"

"Just what I said I would. I'm going to leave his creepy ass there and call the cops tomorrow. I'll let them know about Matthew and hopefully they can contact his family and help them find some peace."

"That sounds good." Standing up, Sam grabbed his duffel from the floor and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. "I think I'm going to hit the shower."

"Okay."

Sam started for the bathroom, then stopped before he could open the door. "Dean, I heard Robbie yelling as I was walking out of there. What did he say?"

Dean sighed as he weighed his options—he could tell Sam the truth or he could tell his brother what he wanted to hear. But Dean couldn't do that; he couldn't give Sam the fairy-tale ending and pretend that they would live happily ever after.

"He said you would never be safe. He said he would find you, Sammy, and that we would both pay."

Sam gave a slight nod of his head and Dean didn't miss the chill that went through his sibling's body.

"I'm not going to let that happen, Sam." Dean leveled his gaze at Sam. "I swear to God, I'm not going to let Robbie near you again."

"I know you won't, Dean." Sam walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Heaving out a deep breath, Dean fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He knew the fear was something that was going to stay with Sam for a long time. Sam wasn't going to just get over this and Dean really didn't know how it would affect Sam if Robbie made good on his threat. The only thing Dean could really do is make sure that it never happened. He wasn't going to let Robbie get his hands on Sam again if it was the very last thing he did. Because Dean knew if he faced the clerk again, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from killing the man. It was as simple as that.

The faint strains of rock music filled the room and Dean dug into his pocket and extracted his cell phone. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was a number he didn't recognize. For a brief instant, he felt a chill go through his body as his thoughts immediately went to Robbie. Had the psycho somehow managed to get free?

"Hello?" Dean's voice was guarded, cautious.

"_Dean Winchester?"_

"Who the hell is this?"

"_My name is Deacon and I was a friend of your father's. We served together in the Marines years ago. I was sorry to hear about John—he was a good man."_

Dean swallowed hard. "Yeah…he was."

"_Listen, I normally wouldn't be calling you, but I have a problem."_

"What kind of problem?"

"_I run the Green County Prison outside of Little Rock. You know where it is?"_

"Yeah, I'm in Arkansas right now."

"_We've had a few weird deaths around here and I was hoping you could help. Like I said, normally I wouldn't call you, but John kind of owes me. I saved his life back during our tour of duty."_

"Why do you think this would be something we could help you with?"

"_Because I think it may be a ghost of one of the old prisoners."_

"So, you would need us to go undercover."

"_I know it's asking a lot since you and your brother are in trouble with the law, but I promise you I will get you out of here as soon as you take care of the spirit. You have my word."_

"When do you need us there?"

"_As soon as you can would be great."_

"Let me talk to my brother and get back to you on it." Dean hung up the phone, but he already knew what his decision would be, even if Sam didn't agree to it. They owed this man a debt for saving their father's life and that was enough for Dean. Besides, with any luck, maybe it would help Sam take his mind off of Robbie if he got involved in another hunt.

That reason was good enough for Dean.

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Robbie felt nothing but rage now. He wasn't afraid of being tied up in the Eclipse and left alone. Nope, that didn't bother him at all. The only thing he could focus on was his hate and rage towards the brothers. He was going to make good on his word to Dean, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

He was going to make sure Dean knew what it felt like to lose his brother. He could hide where ever he wanted to, but Robbie was going to find them again. He was going to make sure Dean knew he couldn't keep Sam safe even if it took the rest of Robbie's life to do it. This wasn't about getting Dean as his brother now—no, it was so much more than that.

It was about pain, pure and simple. Robbie wanted Dean to feel the pain he felt after he lost James. He wanted Dean to mourn that pain and live with the guilt that he could have done something to stop Robbie from killing Sam.

Straining against the ropes that held him to the chair, Robbie tried to work some slack in them. They stubbornly refused to budge though and after a few minutes, he gave up, and paused to catch his breath.

Robbie couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as he remembered the fear in Sam's eyes. It had been so beautiful and so intoxicating especially knowing that he was the one who was causing it. It was almost like a drug to him. Robbie found himself craving more. Sam knew he was about to die and he knew Dean wasn't going to save him.

Only Dean had…

But Robbie wasn't going to focus on that. No, if he focused on that it would only drive him crazy. And hey, everyone already thought he was a few bolts short anyway so why prove it to them? This just gave him a new opportunity to go after the brothers again. Next time, he would be ready for them. Next time, he wouldn't let Dean get the best of him.

It didn't even scare Robbie that the police would pick him up. No, that just gave him even more time to come up with a better plan against the brothers. It would give him the time to work out the kinks and perfect it. Heaving a contented sigh, his blood froze as he heard the sound of the floor creaking outside the door.

Thinking maybe it was Dean coming to finish the job he started, Robbie held his breath as the door slowly opened.

Only it wasn't Dean who entered the room. It was someone else completely different and the long knife the guy was holding told Robbie this wasn't someone he wanted to mess with.

"Who—who are you?"

The man smiled. "Looks to me like I'm your guardian angel. Who did you piss off to get in this position?"

"It's a long story."

The man shrugged as he placed his knife in the sheath hooked to his jeans. "I have time. Try me."

"I pissed off the wrong set of brothers."

The man chuckled as he sat on the edge of the table. "I would say you did."

"Are you going to help me or sit here and laugh at me all night?"

"If you're not going to sound grateful then I'll leave your ass here for the rest of the night." The man pushed off the table and started towards the door. "It doesn't really make a difference to me."

"No, wait!" Robbie called before the man could leave. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Please, help me get out of here."

The man smiled. "Well, since you said please…" He walked towards Robbie and pulling out his knife once again, he began to cut through the ropes.

Robbie chuckled. "Sam and Dean only think they took care of me…" he muttered as the rope around his wrists snapped apart and the man knelt in front of him to cut the ropes around his ankles.

The man stopped and looked up at Robbie. "What did you just say?"

Robbie looked at the man in confusion. "Sam and Dean…they're the ones who left me here."

"One doesn't know how to shut his mouth and the other one tall and in a serious need of a haircut?"

Robbie nodded. "Why?"

The man said nothing as he finished cutting the ropes around Robbie's ankles. Then, holding out his hand, he helped the younger man stand. "What's your name?"

Robbie moved his legs to try to get circulation back in them. "Robbie."

The man's face broke into a full-blown smile as he held out his hand to Robbie. "The name's Gordon Walker…looks like you just made yourself a friend, Robbie."

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**So, I left it at a cliffie…I guess you know what this means—a sequel. Yes, I am planning on doing a sequel, but there is some bad news. I'm gonna take a break and step away from Robbie for a while so I can come back to him fresh. **

**Again, thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think of the story as a whole! Also, if you have any questions send me an email or a PM!**


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